


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

by pentacle



Series: The Crystal Universe [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 51,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1780369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentacle/pseuds/pentacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title from the Robert Frost poem.</p>
<p>Carrying on from the last episode in a different way.</p>
<p>Merlin manages to get Arthur to the Isle of Avalon before he dies.  But saving his life means sending them both into an alternative version of their past, where Merlin finds he can’t use his magic and where the Arthur of that world has apparently been missing for the last three months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur was a limp weight in Merlin’s arms as he pulled him from the boat and onto the island.  Merlin collapsed onto his knees beside him, the dewy grass immediately soaking through the thin cotton of his breeches.  He shivered, but that only made him anxious about how the wet ground was affecting Arthur. “Hold on, we’re here, just hold on a little longer.” 

Above them the tower loomed, dark stone and dark windows; there was no certainty there was anyone on the Isle anymore. His stomach lurched, but he forced the feeling down.   “Please, “ he shouted, “I need help. ..Emrys begs for your aid.  I will do…anything… in return.”

A splash behind him made him jump, but he realised it was only a startled water rat taking to the lake.  The autumn breeze rustled through the brown sedge at the water’s edge and caused the countless gold leaves of the alder trees to shimmer.  The mist hanging heavily over the water gleamed like mother of pearl over an obsidian mirror.

Arthur’s skin had started to look grey and his lips were faintly blue.  “You still with me?  Come on, don't give up now.”  Merlin slapped him gently on the cheek, it felt cold and clammy beneath his fingers. “Come on, you can wake up now.” 

There was a sharp click and Merlin felt a little dizzy with relief as the tower door opened and two women made their way towards them.    One came hobbling and slow, dressed in black, bent over with the humped spine and shoulders that comes to some women in very old age, her hair bound in a long grey plait falling forward across one shoulder to almost brush the seed-heads on the grass.  On either side of the old woman two grey wolfhounds loped like benign protectors.

The other woman came with quick light steps that barely seemed to bend the grass and was at his side in a moment, she was dressed in white and must have been barely eighteen, her skin freckled and her hair a rich nut brown. 

Merlin wasn’t sure which of them to address, so he looked between them both when he said, “The King is badly injured, I need you to heal him.”

“Unbuckle and remove his armour, I can’t treat a patient that I can’t even touch,” snapped the old woman in a tone that reminded Merlin of Gaius. “Whatever possessed you to make a wounded man drag himself across country in chainmail.”

Merlin winced, he hadn’t been wholly sure that was a good idea himself.  “Gaius hoped it would act almost like a splint and stop Arth…the King’s…movements from pushing the point of the blade further inside. “

The young girl sank down to her knees on the opposite side of Arthur and flashed Merlin a reassuring smile as she started to help him to unbuckle Arthur’s gorget and pauldron.

“Well, I suppose that’s as good as passes as reasoning with that old goat,” said the old woman grudgingly.

Merlin wasn’t sure whether he was more surprised that she knew Gaius or that she spoke of him with such familiarity.

It was difficult to take off Arthur's chainmail, and, as gentle as they tried to be, Merlin was worried that any help it might have been on the journey would be totally negated by the way they had to manhandle him in order to remove it.

“Are you done yet?  Have you two young ‘uns got sausages instead of fingers?!”

“Don’t mind Hecate,“ whispered the girl kindly, “she’s impatient that she can’t push us out of the way and do it herself, but her knuckles seized up with the swelling many years back.”

“I’m old, not deaf, Diana, stop trying to seduce the young lad, and get on with the task in hand.”

Under normal circumstances Merlin might have flushed, but he was barely listening.  They'd finally managed to get the chainmail off, and as the girl tugged it to one side, Merlin lowered Arthur gently back to lie on the ground.  He quickly unlaced the front of Arthur's red gambeson, all his attention focused on trying to see whether he could detect the rise and fall of breathing.

Diana placed her white hand onto Arthur’s chest, her eyes falling closed for a moment as she concentrated.   “I’m sorry. The King is dead.”

“No,“ gasped Merlin. “No, he isn’t, you’re wrong, he’s just fainted again.”  He flung himself forwards and rested his ear against Arthur’s chest, listening  for the faint thud-dum that would prove she lied. 

“Back away,’ said Hecate kindly.

Merlin felt a hand pulling at his shoulder; he thought it must be Diana, walked around and trying to gently ease him back.

“No, leave me be.  He’s alive, we can save him.“ He grabbed hard hold of Arthur’s shoulders and buried his face against Arthur’s chest, he tried to ignore how cool and motionless it felt under his cheek.  He still smelled like Arthur though, pungent with sweat, they’d been travelling hard after all, and beneath it the sharp extra odour that comes with sickness, but Arthur’s skin was comforting as home when Merlin breathed against it, and he realized he was trying to remember that scent so he could call it back to him later.  It made him angry to realize that part of him had already decided that Arthur was lost.

“If you want me to help then MOVE!”

Something in Hecate’s voice cut through his despair and he pushed himself away, sprawling backwards on the wet grass.  Hecate took a few steps closer to Arthur and then extended trembling, gnarled hands above his chest. On either side of her the wolfhounds hunched their shoulders and hung their heads and backed up a few steps with low anxious whines.

A few muttered words in the old language, and then there was a flash that blinded him, lancing in a jagged white line from the sky and down to sink itself into Arthur’s chest, almost too quick to register before it was gone. 

Merlin blinked madly, shaking his head, but the crooked afterimage of it was burned into his retina.   As he tried to look around everything was in shadow with the blazing lightning strike burned across the top of it, half blinding him.  A huge rumble of thunder cracked directly above them and the sharp tang of ozone reminded him of the freshness after a storm, or the fresh twang of the air beside the sea.

“Arthur! “ Merlin threw himself forwards across Arthur’s body, almost flinching at the burning heat of the skin. “What have you done, I’ll curse you for this, I swear I’ll never stop until…”

Hecate snorted irritably. “Curse me for giving him a chance, will you?  Seems hardly fair.”

The chest under his shuddered and bucked and he felt the rhythmic thud of the heartbeat beneath his cheek.  “What?”

Hecate sniffed. “In a healthy man, the lightning will drive the spirit out, but in a recently dead man, the lightning will sometimes catch up the spirit on its way from the body and force it back in.“

Merlin raised himself back to his knees and just stared at her, the afterimage of the lightning was fast fading, and his sight was almost back to normal….. “I...Thank you.”

Hecate grimaced and blushed. “Oh, don’t look at me with those wet, moon-calf eyes, he isn’t out of the woods yet and there may be a higher price to pay for his life than you want to give, “ she held up her hand before he could speak.  “ And don’t start interrupting me yet, you don’t know what it is!  Diana, go fetch Marcus and Dafydd to carry the king into the tower.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, hello Lazy Daisy.”

Arthur didn’t seem even slightly surprised to wake in the middle of the night and find Merlin sitting on the edge of his bed.  “I can always trust you to bring a touch of farce even to a deathbed.”

“They say laughter is the best medicine, Sire.”

“All that medical training Gaius gave you was totally wasted, wasn’t it?”

Merlin smirked.  

Arthur tried to raise himself into a sitting position, but his hands merely pushed ineffectually against the bedclothes.  Merlin quickly leaned forwards and helped him to sit up, very conscious of the warmth of Arthur’s chest pressed against his, so different from the clammy coldness of his body when they were outside by the lake.  He took a deep breath just for the pleasure of being able to smell his scent again.  When he was well enough, Arthur would definitely need a bath, but his skin was warm and musky and alive, and that was all that mattered.   Merlin tugged some extra pillows behind Arthur’s back to support him and then sat back.

Arthur looked at him suspiciously, “Were you just _smelling_ me?”

“Someone in the next room could smell you, Arthur.”

Arthur tried to hide a smile. “It’s been a long few days, and you aren’t exactly scented with rose petals yourself.’

Merlin had stripped Arthur down to just his small-clothes before putting him to bed, and now, as the bed sheet slipped downwards, Arthur was startled to see the large burn in the centre of his chest.   “What happened to me?”  He touched it gingerly with the fingers of his right hand.

“Does it hurt badly?”

“Not very much at all,” he said wonderingly.

You’ve been given a drug to kill the pain of your wound, it must be helping with that too.  It’ll hurt fiercely once the drug wears off though.”

“You sound as though you’re talking from experience,” snorted Arthur.  Then stilled… “You ARE talking from experience, aren’t you?  What made this, were we attacked?”

“I’ll tell you the whole story later, but for now just know that the burn was a necessary part of keeping you alive.”

Candlelight illuminated the room with a flickering golden glow and Arthur’s gaze roamed about, taking in the tapestries on the shadowy walls and the burgundy velvet bed curtains.  His hand moved weakly over the coverlet that lay across him, feeling the delicate intricacy of the embroidered flowers.  “Last thing I remember we had reached a clearing and I was on the ground…”

Merlin could almost see the moment that the rest of the memory flooded back:  the hand ruffling Merlin’s hair, the plea to: “Just hold me”…    A little of the colour drained from Arthur’s cheeks and he started to cough.

Merlin poured him a goblet of water from the silver jug on the side table but Arthur waved it away with a trembling hand.

“So,” said Merlin hastily, “I managed to get you to the lake and into a boat and brought you across to the Isle.  You’ve been unconscious for quite a few hours.  There seem to be three priestesses here, but I haven’t seen the third one yet, and a number of servants.  They seem willing to help.  Hecate, the older priestess, managed to rouse you long enough to get you to swallow a potion to ease the pain and then said we should let you sleep for a few hours.”

“The blade is still inside me?”  Arthur’s brow creased, and Merlin could tell he was tentatively tensing his muscles to try and gauge how much pain was lurking under the surface of the drug induced numbness.

“Yes.  She wanted you to rest a little before she tries to remove it.”

“I thought time was of the essence.   And how did you get me to the lake anyway?”

“I’ll tell you later, I think that will turn into a bit of a long story.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I suppose if there is a later then there will be a lot of those.”

“Are you angry?”

“Of course I’m bloody angry, you lied to me since the day I met you.  But…I suppose I’ve had time to see why.” 

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For some of the things you said, on the journey here.”

Arthur snorted, “I was dying, Merlin, probably still am.  People say a lot of things when they’re dying.”

Merlin’s face fell slightly, and after a few moments Arthur huffed out irritably “Doesn’t mean I didn’t mean them, I suppose.  Though if you tell anyone I turned into a complete girl, then I will be forced to execute you after all.”

Merlin’s grin lit up his face.  Arthur rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.     

“So,” said Arthur briskly, “what price does she ask?”

Merlin looked at him blankly.

“Don’t try that with me, I’ve spent all these years being hood-winked by you,” Arthur ignored Merlin’s wince, “and I’m thinking it’s about time I started to see through it.  There must be a price for something like this and I’m willing to bet it’s not gold.”

“She hasn’t told me yet; she said she’d send for me if you woke up.”

Arthur was struck by a sudden coughing fit, and this time he did take a gulp of the water Merlin offered him.  Merlin helped him hold the goblet steady at his lips while he drank, then took a mouthful of water himself before replacing the cup on the table.

“IF I woke up?  Well that’s reassuring.”  Arthur’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘Please tell me you aren’t thinking of offering your life in exchange for mine?”

Merlin looked startled. “Why do you think I’d I do that?”

“Well,“ said Arthur with heavy sarcasm, “I really don’t know.  Perhaps because I can remember at least two times in the past when you’ve tried to do it, and that’s just to my knowledge.  And with all this…” Arthur jiggled his fingers about in what Merlin assumed was a ridiculous attempt to mime doing magic. Merlin raised his eyebrows incredulously, but Arthur ignored him and ploughed on, “…I’m willing to bet there have been other times you’ve tried to throw your life away for me, that I’ve never even known about.”

Merlin suddenly found the pattern on the bedclothes very interesting.

“You HAVE! You idiot! How many times?  No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know, at least not at the moment when I’m too weak to cuff you round the head.  Well, if this Hecate witch…”

“Priestess.”

“Whatever!  If Hecate tries to offer you that deal I forbid you to take it.  You aren’t going to trade your life for mine.”

Merlin nodded meekly.

“Oh no, you aren’t getting away with that, I’m serious and you will obey me.”

“I always do.”

“Except when you decide not to.”

“Only if it’s really important.”

Arthur let out a deep sigh. “You’ve never really totally gotten to grips with the whole master/servant concept, have you.”

Merlin just grinned at him.  “Let’s see what she asks for before we start arguing whether to pay.”

“I mean it, Merlin.  I won’t go back to Camelot without you.“

Merlin didn’t want to ask, but he had to, “…you do still want me to go back with you?”

Arthur stared at him as though Merlin was slightly touched in the head.  It wasn’t the first time that look had been bestowed on him, and normally he endured it, but this time it made him feel a deep glow inside.

“Well, I don’t want to leave you if I can avoid it. I told you my destiny was to be your servant.  Besides, didn’t you promise me two days off?  If I don’t go back with you and tell them no-one will ever believe you did something decent for a change.”

A knock on the door interrupted them before Arthur could voice a sharp response to that.

It was Diana.  Arthur had always noticed a beautiful woman and his stunned expression made Merlin stifle a smile.  He knew Arthur would never say or do anything to betray Gwen, but he was still a man, and Diana was astoundingly beautiful.  He was glad Gwen wasn’t in the room though, if you didn’t understand Arthur as well as he did, then it would be easy to be jealous, when in truth there was no need.

Diana certainly seemed to notice Arthur’s charms too, and her gaze lingered on his broad, bare shoulders; reluctantly she dragged her attention back to Merlin.  “Hecate sensed that the King was awake, and asked if you would meet with her now.  Dafydd is waiting outside the door to take you to her.”

“Sire?”  Merlin hesitated half-way across the room, anxious to see Hecate, but reluctant to leave Arthur.

“Yes, go …Go!  I’ll be fine till you return.”

Diana pulled up a chair to the side of the bed. “With your permission, I’ll sit with you in case you need water or assistance while Merlin is gone.  Perhaps I can entertain you some stories of the history of the Isle of Avalon?”

Arthur nodded courteously, “That would be very kind of you.”

Merlin reached the door and glanced back over his shoulder, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Arthur was watching him with surprising intensity, “Just see that you are.”

Merlin smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring, though Lord knows his own stomach was jittery enough with nerves.  Then went out into the corridor and shut the door quietly behind him.

As Diana had said, Dafydd was waiting for him.  “If you’ll follow me, sir.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“Have you lived here long?”

Dafydd raised his eyebrows, perhaps guessing that Merlin was chatting more from nerves than a real desire to know.  “Since I was born, Sir.”

“You don’t need to call me ‘Sir’, I’m just a servant like yourself.”

Dafydd turned right into a long corridor paved with grey stone.  One wall of the corridor was constructed from open arches that left it open to the elements, they were evidently on one side of a building that had been built in a square, surrounding a shadowy open courtyard a couple of floors below.  Craning his head to look up, Merlin could see the sky, still star-scattered and hours from dawn.

“Oh I don’t think so, Lord Emrys.”

“What?”

“A servant.  You’re not just a servant.  And, come to that, neither am I.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to cause offense…”

“And you didn’t.  There’s nothing to be ashamed of in being a servant.”

“Indeed there isn’t,” said Merlin with heartfelt sincerity, “especially if you serve a good person.”

“As you do?”

“Oh, I do think so.”

They could have turned right again to continue to circle the courtyard, but instead, Dafydd lowered the torch he carried so that they could duck through a low arch and continue straight on.  They continued down a narrow staircase, the torchlight throwing up their flickering shadows to dance on the walls.  Dafydd went confidently, but Merlin was more cautious, the stairs were steep and felt slightly slippery beneath his boots; the centre of each step worn into a smooth dip by centuries of footfalls.

At the bottom of the stairs another archway opened out into a broad corridor with many doors and torches blazing merrily on the walls.   Ahead of them a heavily pregnant woman in a vibrant red gown was just letting herself out of one of the rooms.  She straightened as she saw them and waited, smiling broadly, for them to reach her

Merlin had heard of women that glowed with pregnancy, but he had never met one.  All the pregnant women he had helped Gaius tend had always seemed more tired and nauseous than glowing. 

This woman though, seemed to exude health.  Her glossy hair hung in black ringlets across full breasts already ripe with milk to feed the unborn child.  To Merlin’s surprise she took Dafydd’s free hand when they got close enough and pressed it warmly between her own.  “How are you my little chicken, you keep working down in the kitchens and I never seem to see you anymore.”

Dafydd shuffled his feet and rolled his eyes, “Mother really!  Not NOW!  There’s a guest!  Lord Emrys, may I present Lady Arianrhod.”

“Lord Emrys, I am honoured to meet you, I’ve heard much about you.” Arianrhod focused her huge grey eyes and on him, and normally that would have been enough to fluster Merlin just on its own, but his brain was still stumbling over the fact that Dafydd had called her mother.  Dafydd must be at least forty summers and this woman could be no more than twenty-five at most.

He finally found his voice and stuttered out, “My Lady, I am honoured to meet you.”

“The honour is all mine.  Tell me, do you make a point of going to see your mother on a regular basis?”

“ _Mother!_ ” hissed Dafydd furiously.

Merlin coughed, not entirely sure of the diplomatic answer to suit both parties.  Then suddenly embarrassed when he realized that no, he had not been to see Hunith in quite some time.  And if Arthur’s suspicions were right and Hecate did ask for his life in payment for Arthur’s, then Hunith would never see him again before he died, and never know how much he loved her.  He felt his eyes grow moist and tried to stamp the feeling down, feeling like a fool.

Arianrhod stroked his cheek and Merlin was too startled to draw backwards.  “She knows, sweetie.” 

“Hecate is expecting us,” interjected Dafydd sharply.

Merlin thought Arianrhod might be offended but she just smiled fondly.  Go on, you two, off to see my sister before she loses patience.

Merlin nodded politely as Dafydd huffed, and led him onwards.   But Merlin was ablaze with confusion.  Surely Arianrhod could not be Hecate’s sister, Hecate was old enough to be Arianrhod’s grandmother at the very least.

“Really, “ Dafydd was mumbling under his breath as they walked, “You’d think we lived in different kingdoms rather than the same keep.  I can’t always be clinging to her apron…well, what do you think?”

“Me?” Merlin flinched, and knew he must look like a rabbit that had just spotted a sparrowhawk and knew it was too late to duck for safety.  “Erm, no…well, it’s nice that she cares about you…” he stopped at Dafydd’s scowl and changed tack, “…but it’s difficult, you don’t want to feel that you have to account for every minute…”

“Exactly,” said Dafydd, releasing a sigh of satisfaction.  He clapped a friendly arm across Merlin’s shoulders as though they’d been friends for years.  “Here it is.”  He gestured at the low door in front of them.  “Hecate’s chamber.”  He opened the door and ushered Merlin in while announcing loudly, “My Lady Hecate, My Lord Emrys.”

He cast Merlin a quick conspiratorial wink, before ducking out again and closing the door, leaving Merlin alone with Hecate. 


	4. Chapter 4

 Hecate was sitting in a comfortable chair by the fire, the two wolfhounds sprawled in front of her with their grey hairy bellies turned towards the flames, basking in the warmth.  The room was low ceilinged and bunches of herbs hung drying from the oak beams,  scenting the air with the rich sleepy smells of lavender and sage as well a dozen other odours, too faint to identify individually, but merging to make the room smell like comfort and home.  Shelves lined most of the walls holding books, scrolls, crystals, jars, and all manner of magical paraphernalia.   He spotted a white-handled boline hanging on a peg on the wall, the silver blade shaped like the crescent moon, and used for gathering magical herbs.

“Come and sit down.”  Hecate beckoned him to the chair opposite her. 

Merlin sat down and absently stroked the stomach of one of the wolfhounds by his feet, the fur seemed to be getting ridiculously hot, but the dog seemed to be enjoying it.  The dog’s leg twitched and it gave a faint whine of contentment.

“They’re called Hugin and Munin, ” said Hecate smiling at the dogs indulgently.  “Not original names I know, but Arianrhod wanted to call them Turnip and Carrot, so I saved the poor little buggers from that.”

“Arthur is awake now, you were right, the rest seems to have given him strength, but I’m anxious for you to get the blade fragment out of him.  He seems stable at the moment, but I know that can’t last for long.”

 Hecate pursed her lips, “It’s not quite that straight forward.”

“I know there’s a price,” said Merlin, “and I’m willing to pay whatever price you ask.”

“Your life, for his?”

Merlin had hoped she wouldn’t request it, but he was already half-resigned.  He wondered how long it would take Arthur to forgive him.  Still, what was important was that Arthur would live, and he would forget eventually, even if he never forgave.  “Willingly.”

Hecate frowned, “You’re very quick to throw your life away.  What if I asked for your mother’s life?”

Merlin blanched, “My mother’s life isn’t mine to give.  Why would you ask for that?  Why be so cruel?  _Are_ you asking for that?”

“Isn’t it just as cruel to ask for your life?”

Merlin’s fingers twisted together fretfully in his lap as he tried to put into words something he knew in his bones.  “If Arthur dies…I’d die anyway.”

Hecate raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, I wouldn’t kill myself,“ added Merlin quickly, “at least, I don’t think I would.  But I can’t imagine how I could ever take any interest in anything again, a world without him in it…there’s no…there’s no reason to it, there would be no _point_ , do you see?   Why would you even bother to get up in the morning, or eat...I’d just be waiting for death anyway.”

“You love him very much.”

Merlin flushed, “I don’t know about love, he’s infuriating, and pig-headed, and he can be pompous…”

“What you’ve described to me is love, I don’t know what else you would call it.  Does he love you?”

Merlin stared at her in shock. “Oh, no!  He does consider me a friend now, I think, though there was a long time when he wouldn’t.  But love?  He loves Guinevere, he couldn’t love me.”  Merlin stuttered, “I mean, even if he didn’t love Gwen, he wouldn’t love me. “

“There are many types of love, brotherly love for example.  But you immediately thought of passionate love. “  Hecate put her head thoughtfully on one side and watched him, her eyes narrowed and thoughtful, she reminded Merlin of a Heron about to spear a fish.   “Yes, that will do very well.”

“What will?  What do you mean?  Will you take the blade fragment out now?  What payment are you asking for?”

“I am afraid I can’t take the blade fragment out.”

“What?” Merlin jumped to his feet, “What did I say wrong, what do you want?  I told you I’d give anything.”   Merlin felt his eyes turn golden and the magic begin to crackle beneath his skin.  “I don’t want to threaten you, but I will if I have to.  I WILL have a cure for Arthur, and if you will not give it to me I will take it.”

Hecate rose to her feet, her dark eyes suddenly gleamed with a silver white light, and power crackled in her like a summer storm.  “You _dare_ come into my room and threaten ME.  You forget yourself Emrys, you may be powerful, but I was turning the tides and driving the cycles of the Earth before you were even born.”

“You can be the Lord of Summer himself for all I care.” Merlin felt the power ooze unbidden out of his skin and settle in two crackling balls of blue light in his palms.

In response, tiny lightning bolts spat and forked around Hecate, limning her in white light and making the stray hairs from her grey plait rise in the static.   

Suddenly she seemed to take a deep breath.  The lightning faded and she sank back into her seat.  Hecate waved a careless hand at him, ‘Oh do sit down, your anger is wearing me out.”  Then, more kindly, when Merlin, tense and unhappy, continued to stand, “Please sit down, Emrys, I have not said that I cannot help, I have just said that I can’t remove the blade.”

Merlin forced the magic down.  It was hard to pull it back safely into himself, his heart was thumping in his chest as though he’d been running and his forehead was beaded with sweat.   But he sat down again, and regarded her warily.

“I can’t take the blade fragment out because it is impossible.  It’s too close to his heart and enchanted with the magic of a dragon’s breath besides.”

Merlin felt something inside himself wither and crumble to dust, “But unless it is removed he will die.”

“Indeed he will,“ said Hecate.  “But there is another option.”

“How can there be another option?  If you don’t remove it Arthur dies and you’ve just said you can’t remove it.”

“Draw up that table between us.”

Merlin pulled the low table over, trying to position it between the lanky sprawled legs of the wolfhounds, while Hecate hobbled over to a shelf behind her and brought back a large black velvet bag.  She undid the drawstring top and slid a huge raw crystal down onto the tabletop before gratefully sinking back into her chair. 

Merlin could feel the power radiating off the crystal without even needing to touch it. 

“Take the crystal and look into it, and you will understand a part.  I will try to explain the rest.”

 Merlin took the long spear of crystal into his hands, as soon as he held it, the visions crowded into his mind.  Intense flashes of colour and sound.  His physical presence in the room with Hecate was forgotten and he was wherever the crystal threw him. 

He was once again in the aftermath of the battle, his feet sliding in the mud, picking his way through the bodies looking for Arthur.  The sickening stench of blood was in his nostrils.  He recognised the pile of bodies on his left, and knew where he was…the way the dead knight’s broken wrist curled completely back on itself, he remembered/felt again, the surge of revulsion that men could do this to each other.  In another moment he knew he would look ahead and see Arthur, lying there, seemingly dead.   

He didn’t want to go through it, couldn’t see this again; Arthur’s lifeblood mingling with the churned mud of the battlefield.  He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t do it, he’d done it once, he couldn’t do it again, shouldn’t have to go through it again.  He remembered it too well, the sensation that his stomach had been ripped out and that the floor had fallen out of his world.

But the vision carried him on relentlessly, it pushed him forward and there he was, seeing it all.  

But…this was different.  He knew he picked Arthur up in his arms and carried him.  But now, he wasn’t picking Arthur up.  He was raising his face to the skies and screaming the dragon speech at the night sky, calling Kilgharrah to him to lift the king straight from the battlefield to the Isle of Avalon.

Merlin reeled, why hadn’t he done that.  They could have saved so much time, time enough for the blade fragment to be removed at Avalon.

The scene shifted…replayed again…this time was more like what he knew, but he lost the horses earlier, called the dragon later;  by the time they reached the lake Arthur was already dead.  There was no point in even trying to reach Avalon.  He put Arthur’s body in the boat to burn and…he saw himself, old and hollow, trudging through some strange new world that held no joy for him.

And back again.  History replayed again, this time Mordred was already dead, Merlin had never helped Morgana save the child.  Mordred was not there to kill Arthur on the battlefield and Merlin rounded the same pile of dead knights, saw that same pathetic, twisted, broken wrist lying in the mud, but this time he lifted his eyes to see Arthur standing tall, his sword sagging in one weary hand.  Sky-blue eyes meeting his.  Joyful to see him, tired yes, but alive and vibrant and grinning at him.

More variants followed, all slightly different.  Sometimes Arthur died and those visions were the hardest to bear.  But in others Merlin died instead, or they both died, and those were easier to take.  In some they both survived and those worlds were joyous and he could feel the tears streaming down his face.

The vision broke, and he could feel Hecate gently plying the crystal from his limp hand.

He opened his eyes and blinked, struggling to see.  He swiped the back of his hand roughly across his eyes and it came away wet, but he could see the room clearly now, and see Hecate sitting across from him.

“What was that?  Which of those visions were true?”

“All of them,” replied Hecate kindly, “and none of them. It depends on where you stand.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not surprised, it’s not an easy thing to grasp. Even when you think you understand it, then it slips away like sand through your fingers.  Here!” She poured him a goblet of red wine, “Take a good mouthful of that, it helps pull you back to the here and now.” Her eyes twinkled, “or at least that’s the excuse I always give.”

Merlin took a gulp of the wine, it was harsh yet sweet.  “So?”

“All of those worlds exist.  Every time someone makes a choice the universe splits.  We are in our one, and to us the others are but shadows.  But to them, their world is real and we are the shadows.”

“Every choice makes a new world?  Even small choices?”

“Yes, from what I’ve seen in the crystal, even stupid, petty choices pull a new world into existence.  Something as minor as deciding what to eat for dinner.  If the meat is under-cooked; in one world you fall sick and die, in the other world you don’t.  And every tiny choice makes a difference , like ripples spreading out on a pond.  It’s raining so I decide not to go out…so I don’t meet that woman…” Hecate cast Merlin an assessing glance, “Or man…who I would love…and the whole course of my life is changed by a shower of rain.”

Merlin resisted taking another mouthful of wine, well aware how quickly it would go to his head, and he needed to think clearly.  “But, it’s just not possible, how could there be room for all of those different worlds.”

“Look,” said Hecate, leaning forward in her chair.  “I put this candle on the table, and…” she plunked down her goblet of wine, red wine splashed over the rim onto the table top but she didn’t seem to notice, “this goblet.  See how the candle throws the goblet’s shadow across the table?”

Merlin nodded.

“Now, I take another candle, and put it over to this side, see, it makes the goblet throw a new shadow across the first.”

“Yes.”

“And another candle, and another shadow.  Can I ever fill up that shadow space, so that it’s so full that I can’t put another shadow there?” 

Merlin felt a headache coming on, and he didn’t think it was from the wine.  “No, but, even assuming that’s true, how does it help Arthur?”

“Because, my young friend.  What I can do, is shift you and Arthur sideways into one of these shadows.”

Merlin felt his breath catch in his throat.  “But it wouldn’t be like a shadow life?”

“No, of course not,” she winced and paused, then seemed to catch herself and continued confidently, “well I don’t think so.  All I have seen seems to show that if you shift sideways into one of these other worlds, then it will be as real as this one.  Indeed, for you it will BE the only world, and all the others will be shadows, in the same way as the others are shadows to you at the moment.”

“So are we replacing ourselves?” The memory of those joyous visions he’d had where he and Arthur had survived were still fresh, he wanted to save Arthur, but not at the expense of the other, equally happy Arthurs.  And his headache seemed to be getting worse…

“No, there seems to be some sort of…rule…natural law…stopping you from ousting your own selves from another world, or existing in the same world at the same time. If I can shift you sideway, it will be to a world where you are no longer there.  It’s possible you have died, or that you have taken another offer like this and shifted sideways in another direction.”

“I wish Gaius was here, he would understand this.”

“One of the reasons I needed Arthur refreshed from sleep and able to make his own choices is that you both will have to make the decision.  I cannot tell you where you will go.  I will try to put you into a version as close as I can, but one where Arthur does not have the killing fragment of blade inside him.”

Merlin knew the elation must be showing on his face because Hecate held up a hand to quell him. 

“It might be only very subtly different from your own world.  Or it might be very different, the reason I asked about your mother’s life, is that Hunith might be dead in this world, and Balinor might be alive.”

Merlin was startled to hear her mention Hunith and Balinor by name, but he already knew she was more than a priestess.

“Gwaine might be alive in this world...” Continued Hecate, then paused at his expression, “I’m sorry, you didn’t know?  But what I am saying, is that though you and Arthur will have each other, everything around you may be totally different.  I cannot tell you what heavy price will be paid.  Or even whether there will be a price at all.”

Merlin clapped his hand across his mouth and rubbed his face.  “I need to explain this to Arthur.  Well, try to explain it.  Thank you, I’m sorry I got angry before…” 

“Ach,” she leaned forward and patted his shaking hand, “I wouldn’t have respected you if you hadn’t.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

When Merlin re-entered the bedroom it was to see Diana still sitting on a chair by Arthur’s bed; the candlelight catching the warm chestnut highlights in her hair and warming the creamy whiteness of her throat.  She looked impossibly lovely…like a goddess, Merlin thought wryly.  Her voice was low and sweet as she related some heroic tale from Avalon’s past, it was a voice that you could listen to forever and never grow tired of.  Arthur seemed utterly intent on whatever Diana was telling him, but as soon as the door clicked shut and he realised Merlin had entered he seemed to completely forget that Diana existed.

“Merlin, you’re back!”

“I haven’t been gone that long.”

Diana rose gracefully to her feet, and smiled at Arthur, “I think you and Merlin have a lot to talk about.  With your permission I will retire.”

Arthur nodded his head gratefully, “I have very much enjoyed your histories.  I hope we have a chance to talk further.”

Diana smiled, and then gave a knowing smile to Merlin as she passed him on her way to the door, as though they shared some secret knowledge together.   Merlin gave her an uncertain smile in return, not at all sure what she meant by it.

Once he’d closed the door behind her, he hastened over to sit on the bed.   “Now this is not the easiest thing to explain…”

Half an hour later Arthur was looking at him with an almost endearing expression of complete bafflement.

“I don’t get the bit with the goblet and the shadows…so what happens when the sun comes up, does the goblet disappear?…”

Merlin sighed slightly, this might be the fourth time Arthur had insisted on retracing this particular metaphor and he was starting to regret mentioning it in the first place.  “Really, just forget the goblet thing, I don’t think it’s helping. “

Arthur looked unhappy.   “Right, so without the whole ‘goblet’ thing…and that, I’ve got to tell you, I’m still not happy with…Hecate is going to shift us into some sort of shadow land, to replace other versions of ourselves that hated that land so much that they’ve already killed themselves or gone somewhere else.”

Merlin paused, Arthur did seem to have suddenly seen a flaw in the plan that he’d totally missed himself.  “Um, yeah.”

“On the other hand, if I don’t do this, then I die?”

Merlin didn’t like the sudden change from ‘we’ to ‘I’.

“Hecate says it’s the only choice.”

Arthur looked off into the middle distance, the potion against the pain was starting to wear off now, and Merlin could see that his breathing was more labored and sweat was starting to bead on his forehead, turning the edges of his blond hair dark and damp.

“Tell her I’ll do it.”

Merlin half-rose from the bed, he didn’t like the pallor that was creeping back across Arthur’s skin.  “I’ll send word to Hecate that we’re ready.”

“No, I said ‘I’ll do it’.  We don’t know what lies out there: everyone we know might be dead, Morgana might still be alive and rule Camelot.  There’s no reason for you to venture into that.  You can take the boat home and go back to help Gwen and Gaius…or back to your mother; she must be worried about you.”

“If we don’t know what we’re facing, then all the more reason for me to go with you.”

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was scathing, “I think you’re over-estimating yourself if you think I can’t manage without you.  Whatever world I end up in, I’m sure servants will be ten a penny.”

There was a long moment where Merlin looked at him in shock, then his nostrils widened in disdain, “Honestly, how stupid do you think I am?  Is that the best you could come up with?”

“What?”

Merlin shook his head and went for the door, “I’ll tell Hecate we’re going.”  He turned back and threw a withering glance at his King. “Sometimes I _really_ wonder why I follow you.  Servants like me…ten a penny?...just…Pfft!”

He closed the door behind him, not seeing the fond smile Arthur bestowed on his retreating back. 


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur’s arm rested heavily around Merlin’s shoulders; despite Arthur’s faith in his own stubbornness to keep him going no matter what, in reality, Merlin thought it was only his own wiry strength that was keeping them both standing.  

The exertion of getting down the steps to the temple room had drenched Arthur in sweat and his body felt feverishly hot where it was pressed against Merlin’s side.

Thank the Goddess that Hecate had insisted on Arthur just wearing a light shirt and breeches rather than the chainmail he had wanted to put on.  Otherwise Merlin knew there would have been an embarrassing moment in the middle of the ritual where they both keeled over sideways in a deafening clang of metal links on flagstones.

 “I wish she’d let me wear my sword at least.” hissed Arthur, his mouth disconcertingly close to Merlin’s ear.

“You heard what she said,” muttered Merlin, “we can’t take anything with us so there’s no point.  We take the places of ourselves that were there.  Even these bodies don’t go with us.”

“I don’t see how…”

“We decided it was another “goblet” issue, remember.  We’re going to let it go.”

Arthur huffed, “But what happens to our bodies here...?”

Fortunately, at that moment, Hecate seemed to decide she was ready and sent them a stern look to hush them both.  “Not before time,” thought Merlin gratefully.

The ceremony seemed to be interminable.  All three sisters were present and took a part in intoning the various parts of the incantation. The air in the windowless temple room was sickeningly sweet and heavy with Myrrh.  All the candles burning in the wall sconces made the room stiflingly hot and after a while the flames started to blur in and out of focus at the edge of his vision. 

Arthur meanwhile, was getting heavier and heavier.  His head started to loll, and it wasn’t long before he began having problems dragging it back up again to see what was happening.

“Hold on Arthur.” Merlin tried to rub a reassuring hand along his ribs without pressing anywhere that might hurt his wound.

Arthur tilted his face to Merlin’s and raised a weak smile, his eyes were barely open.  Merlin knew he was trying to reassure him back; the dolt, Merlin didn’t need reassuring, he knew everything was going to be fine.   The candle smoke was starting to get in his eyes now and make them water; he blinked them clear and gave Arthur a grin, but he thought Arthur might be too far gone to register it.

He rubbed Arthur’s side again, “Not long now.”

But the ceremony continued.

Now his thigh muscles were burning from the effort of keeping the both of them standing.

Just when there was a glimmer of hope and he thought it might be coming to an end, Diana moved forward to cut a complex pattern in the air with a silver bladed athame. 

For a moment he felt despair.  He really couldn’t carry on one more minute like this.  And yet he would, because he had to.  He straightened his back, and pulled Arthur’s arm more securely around his neck.

And then suddenly, Diana stepped back into place between her sisters and it was there, crackling on the ground before them, like a huge dark mirror made of smoke and threaded through with spitting blue lightning, or a magical pit to the core of the world.  A wind whistled up from it, whirling around the room and catching at their clothes and pulling their hair

“It’s time,“ said Hecate, “this is the portal, you need to go through.”

Arthur was all but unconscious and it took all Merlin’s remaining strength to drag him forward the few steps necessary.

The wind was stronger here, like a riptide pulling at their bodies and trying to claim them, it was difficult to stay upright.  Merlin threw Hecate a last desperate look, “Can you get a message to my mother; that I’m not dead, that I’m sorry, but I had to go with Arthur.  I hope she understands.”

Hecate looked dubious, but Arianrhod rolled her eyes at her sister’s caution, and smiled at him and nodded, the gale whipping her black hair around her face, “I’ll see she gets the message, Merlin Emrys.  Good luck to you both.  Wherever you both now walk, at least you walk it together.”

Merlin gripped Arthur more securely and all he had to do was lean forward, the wind pushing at their backs like a living thing.  He felt the moment when they hit the tipping point, teetering on the edge for a fraction of a moment between one world and the next…and then gravity took over and their own weight sent them plunging forward, down together into the abyss.


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Merlin was aware of was biting cold, then the hard ground beneath him.  He felt the gritty texture of earth beneath his fingertips, but it was icy cold and hard as stones.  Then, as he automatically tried to curl in on himself against the chill, there came the brutal pain of a dozen different aches and injuries.  He must have gasped aloud, because he heard Arthur’s sharp query from somewhere to his left, “Merlin?  Are you alright?”

Merlin opened his eyes and blinked up at a grey wintry sky.

“Merlin?”

“What?  Yes, I’m fine.”  He tried to sit up and had to clench his jaw tight to avoid groaning.

Arthur must have just woken on the ground nearby, because as Merlin sat up he was already scooting over on his knees to reach Merlin’s side.  Arthur’s movements seemed to be painless and agile, and his skin had lost the grey hue of recent days and looked healthy and pink with the cold. 

Merlin felt relief sink deep into his bones, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or sob.  “Your wound?  The blade? How do you feel?”

“Wonderful, “ said Arthur in awe, “in fact, never healthier.”  He pulled up the edge of his red shirt to reveal a torso that was free of wounds and bandages, then dropped the edge of the shirt, and curiously pulled open the neck so that he could look down.  “Even the burn on my chest is gone.”

“The time of year has changed.“ said Merlin, looking around them at the barren trees.  Some meagre drifts of snow weaved through the undergrowth and were deep enough in places to half hide the fallen yellow leaves.

Arthur frowned, “Assuming it is the same year at all.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, Hecate didn’t say anything about going forwards or backwards.  Do I look any older or younger?”

Arthur frowned.  “You look thinner!  Whatever’s been happening in this world I don’t think you’ve had a decent meal in a month or two.”

“Perhaps it’s been a bad harvest and a harsh winter?”

Arthur looked down at himself critically, “I don’t seem any different.  Well, except for these clothes that I assume belonged to the ‘me’ from here.”

However much he wanted to suffer along with his people, Merlin suspected that if there had been a famine then Arthur would have been protected from the worst of it without his knowledge.

Which was as it should be, thought Merlin protectively, the leader in a crisis needs to be able to make clear decisions without being faint from hunger.  And, truth to tell, Merlin did feel a little faint.  He wondered how bad the harvest had been.

Arthur rose to his feet in one lithe movement. And Merlin could tell by the way that he loosely rolled his shoulders and looked about him, that he was relishing the fact that death’s hand had moved from his shoulder and that he could move freely without pain.  Whereas Merlin felt anxious, Arthur seemed charged with excitement at the prospect of facing this unknown world, as though he was on the battlefield and waiting for his opponent to show himself.  “We need to find shelter, or we’ll freeze out here before we see anything.”

Merlin nodded.  But as he tried to push himself to his feet, pain stabbed through his midriff and he fell backwards with a gasp.

“There’s ice on the ground, “ grinned Arthur, offering his hand, “watch your step.”  Merlin took the hand gratefully and let himself be hauled to his feet, clenching his teeth so that he wouldn’t make a sound.

“The wood is too close around us here, let’s try this way, it goes uphill, and if we get a little higher we might be able to see some sort of landmark.”

Merlin nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak.  Arthur surged off enthusiastically along a deer track that led uphill, and Merlin limped in his wake.

When they reached the crest of the hill Arthur looked around critically, “I think I recognise this place, it’s not that far from Camelot, maybe a day’s ride.  We’ll have to go cautiously though, as the war against the Saxons and Morgana might still be going on here, and the woods could be filled with war parties.  Or, we might have lost…” Arthur went silent for a moment, then seemed to drag his attention back to the needs of the present.  “There should be an old hunting lodge of my father’s over that way.  It fell into disrepair some years back but should be enough to give us a bit of a shelter from the wind and the chance to build a fire.”   

“Sounds perfect.”

Arthur set off down the hill.  Merlin took the opportunity to pause for a moment and pull up the edge of his threadbare, blue tunic, his clothes were always a bit the worse for wear, but this tunic was riddled with holes and the seams were barely holding together.  He was surprised Gaius hadn’t insisted on finding something better for him, their clothes had always been worn till they fell apart, but this was barely one step up from rags.     

He pulled the material further up to expose his waist, wondering why he ached so badly and whether he had somehow been hurt in the crossing from one world to the next.   His eyes widened as he saw his body, his stomach was concave and covered in bruises, and not just new bruises either, these were new red and purple bruises laid over old yellowing ones.  He pulled up his tunic further and twisted to see that the bruises continued over his kidneys and across his ribs.

Someone had been beating on him like a practice dummy for weeks.   The question was, why hadn’t he done something to stop them?   There had been times in the past when he’d suffered injury and had to cover it up for various reasons, but never over a long sustained period as this seemed to be.  He felt a pang of betrayal; surely Arthur or Gaius must have noticed this going on, why hadn’t they helped him.  Or maybe he had a reason for carefully keeping it from them.  Or perhaps they hadn’t been there…

Or…he watched Arthur striding ahead of him…could it have been Arthur doing it?  Perhaps he had discovered Merlin’s magic in this world…?  No, Merlin felt sick at even thinking it.  Arthur had thrown the odd goblet at his head in the past, but he would never do something like this.  Merlin felt a surge of guilt for the idea even crossing his mind.  The fear of discovery had lurked with him for so long that his subconscious had dreamed all kinds of nightmares about what might happen when Arthur discovered the truth.

And in fact, when he had revealed his magic to Arthur, on their journey to the Isle of Avalon, Arthur had adjusted to it very well, and accepted him remarkably quickly.

“But he thought he was dying,” a small part of Merlin’s brain chirped up unbidden, “his mind was on that, not festering over your ‘betrayal’.”

No, it was against everything he knew of Arthur.  It was his own insecurity speaking, not anything rational.  He straightened his tunic and hastened to catch up with Arthur. 

“There it is.” Said Arthur, turning at that moment to grin at him and gestured towards the roof of a small shack. 

The hunting lodge turned out to be remarkably basic, considering it had been constructed for Uther’s use.  Merlin could not imagine the older Uther that he knew being content to spend the night in a crude one room shed, but he supposed even Uther had been young and careless once.

There were a couple of wooden beds set along the walls, and a fireplace containing the ancient ashes of a fire.  A crude oak table and a couple of chairs completed the furniture.   

Once Arthur had closed the wooden shutters the room was sealed from the wintry wind, it promised to be cosy enough.  

“Let’s get a fire lit,“ said Arthur.  The remains of a log pile sat next to the fireplace, not much more than a few bits of kindling, but once it was aflame then they could take turns to venture out for firewood. 

“Merlin?”

Merlin searched the pockets of his jacket for a flint.

“What are you looking for,  just…” Arthur wiggled his fingers.

“You really have to stop doing that.  But are you sure you’re happy with me…”

Arthur shivered, “I think I'm starting to see the benefits of sorcery, and believe me, I never thought I’d say that.”

“If you’re sure?”  Merlin cautiously hunkered down in front of the fireplace, careful of his injuries and biting his lower lip to keep silent.

He reached out a hand and gently pushed the magic out, still thrilled that he could finally do this in front of Arthur.  

And then there was an explosion of sheer agony that knocked him from his feet; his back hit the ground and he heard his feet thrumming against the floor like someone in the grips of a fit.  The smell of his own skin blistering hit his nostrils and he could feel it blackening and lifting from the muscle beneath like pork roasting on a griddle.  There was a crackling hiss, and he knew that any fat in his body was bubbling into liquid and beginning to melt from his flesh and trickle down between the floorboards.

He could hear someone screaming like a dying animal, and thought for a moment it must be Arthur.  But then heard Arthur’s voice at his ear, and knew it could not both be Arthur screaming and quietly pleading at the same time.

“Merlin please, Merlin?  Please Merlin. What do I do?”   

Arthur’s gentle hands were like sandpaper on his raw burned flesh and he flailed and bucked to get away.

Then suddenly the pain was gone, and he was lying on his back, gasping like a beached fish.  He raised his hands in front of him, astonished to find that the skin was smooth and white and unblemished.  He touched his face tentatively, and realized that it was cool and unmarred.

“Merlin?” 

Arthur was leaning over him, his expression so desperate that without thinking, Merlin reached out a trembling hand to touch his cheek and calm him.  “I’m fine.”

“Lay still, I’ll light the fire and get you moved onto one of the beds.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Fortunately, in this world, as in their own, it seemed that Merlin carried a small tinderbox in the pouch at his belt, and Arthur took it across to the hearth to strike a fire.  Merlin breathed deeply, the memory of the intense pain still echoing in his mind, then began to shakily push himself to his feet.

Arthur threw him a glare over his shoulder, “I told you to stay still.”

“I’m fine,“ said Merlin, ignoring the faintness that wasn’t helped by the way his heart was still pattering fast as a rabbit’s in his chest.  He stumbled a few steps and sat down on the bed, grateful the room wasn’t larger.

“You don’t look it.”  The fire took and Arthur fed it with twigs until he was sure of it before dragging a chair over to where Merlin sat.  “I’ve seen pails of milk with more colour than you.”

Merlin snorted, “When was the last time you saw a pail of milk, your royal highness!”

“I’ll have you know I am very in touch with my people, and I’ve always had a yen for the farming life, if I hadn’t been born the crown prince…”

“Yes, I could see you milking cows and clearing up their dung.”

“No Merlin, I’d be a farmer with a servant, you’d be doing that.” 

Merlin laughed and he could see by the glint in Arthur’s eyes that he was relieved to see Merlin starting to relax.

“So,“ said Arthur after a moment, “what was that?   The only time I’ve heard screams like that was when…“ his mouth tightened but then he seemed to force himself on, “was when my father burned magic users on the pyre.”

Merlin shuddered, “That’s what it felt like…like being burned alive.”

“Has this happened before?”

“No never.” The idea that it might happen again made his throat suddenly dry; he felt Arthur’s firm hand steadying his shoulder, and realised he must have swayed.

“Do you think it was trying to use magic that caused it?”

“I don’t know…perhaps?”

“You…we both…need food, if I remember rightly, there are a few cottages down the hill, I’ll go there and see if I can buy a chicken or rabbit.”

“No,” interrupted Merlin quickly, “I should go.  The Arthur in this world has disappeared for some reason, or we wouldn’t be here, until we know the reason I don’t think it’s safe.  They may recognise the King, but they won’t recognise me, I’ll buy some supplies and see if I can get news of how things stand.”

He knew Arthur could see the right of it by the way he frowned unhappily.   “Sometimes Merlin, you are wiser than I like.  I’ll walk you to the outskirts at least, then wait for you in the trees.”

Merlin couldn’t see any need for them both to be out in the cold, and tried to convince Arthur that he was feeling much better and wasn’t some fainting maiden who needed to be escorted.  But Arthur was stubbornly having none of it, and after banking up the fire to keep until they returned, they made their way down through the forest to the small hamlet.

They reached the hamlet in early evening, the sky was sprinkled with early stars and was a crisp clear indigo that promised overnight frost.  The tiny cottages were pale in the darkness and quiet as the grave with no movement to be seen, even the animals having been brought into the living quarters to protect them from the cold.  In desperate times it was a harsh fact, but true, that a goat could be worth more to a family’s survival than a child. 

Merlin knew from growing up in Ealdor that in this cold weather with the light fading then anyone hunting would not be back until later, and anyone in the village would be safely within doors preparing the evening meal or spinning wool or other such tasks as they could do inside.

“Which cottage?”

Merlin grinned at the way Arthur regarded the hamlet in the same way as he would a military campaign.  “I don’t think there’s much to choose between them, I’ll just go to the nearest.”

“Take care, and try not to be too long, it’s cold as a witches tit out here.”

Merlin looked at him sharply, and then burst out laughing. 

Arthur grinned at him, “Get on with you, and make sure you buy a decent chicken, I’ve given you coin enough.  I’m starving.”

”You’re always starving.”

Merlin was pleased when Arthur shoved him with his shoulder, pleased that he had gotten over treating him like a delicate Roman glass.

****************

It was almost fully dark when Merlin came out of the cottage, a plucked chicken suspended from one fist as he picked his way up the scrubby hillside to the tree line, his eyes searching for Arthur in the gloom beneath the trees.

“Here!“ said Arthur, falling into stride beside him.  “You were long enough.”

“There was a lot to hear.  The woman and her children were very kind once they got over the excitement of a stranger suddenly turning up on their doorstep.”

“Thank the Goddess they had a chicken to sell, I feel as though I haven’t eaten in a month.  But what was the news, what happened here with the war, did Camelot triumph, is Morgana dead?  Did they accept Gwen as queen?”

Merlin had time in the cottage to absorb the news, but he had not had time to think of a way to pass it on gently.  All he could do was state it bluntly as he had heard it.  “There has been no war.”

Arthur stopped dead, and Merlin stopped with him, aware of the sudden chill hitting them now that they weren’t warming themselves by walking.

“The villager said that Crown Prince Arthur disappeared a few months back, no one knows where you have gone, or whether you are dead or alive.”

He could barely make out Arthur in the darkness; he was a dim pale shadow against the dark trees, impossible to read.  “And?”

Merlin swallowed, “Morgana is at Camelot…and…is a great comfort to King Uther in this time of loss.”    

“Father?”

The word was barely more than a soft exhale, and it made Merlin’s breath catch in his throat, when he could speak again, he murmured, “Yes.”

In the darkness, he could barely see the swift arm that Arthur moved to swipe across his eyes. 

Arthur began walking again, and when he spoke, his voice was as firm and businesslike as usual, “What else?”

“No-one has even heard of Gwen, I think she must still be a servant to Morgana as she was.  They also didn’t have enough dealings with the castle to have heard of Gaius.”

“And yourself?”

“Well, if they hadn’t heard of Gaius or Gwen then they certainly wouldn’t have heard of me, I didn’t even bother asking.  Cenred still rules Essettir…so he isn’t dead.  Anything else that would interest us didn’t reach this village.  Most of the news was of petty changes in the local landlords who I’d never heard of, I just nodded my head and tried to look interested.”

Arthur was deep in thought all the way back to the hunting lodge, and Merlin was happy that he was;  it gave him time to think about his mother and about Balinor, and hope that they too, might both be alive. 


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur hadn’t been idle while waiting for Merlin to return from the cottage and had gathered a small pile of branches that he’d left ready to collect some way back up the trail.  So when they entered the hunting lodge again, they could set together straight away with Arthur feeding up the flames while Merlin used the edge of his sleeve to dust the cobwebs from an old iron spit propped up near the hearth.  He spiked it through the chicken and nudged Arthur out of the way so that he could slot it into the grooves in the wall above the fire.

They sank back on the floor to sit watching the flames and to warm up.

“It’s good they could spare us this, we didn’t leave them too short of food by buying it?”

Arthur’s hair was gilded golden by the firelight and his eyes still troubled by the news from earlier, despite sitting on a bare, wooden floor in a meagre hut he looked every inch the King.  Merlin remembered back to the arrogant youth he’d first met years ago, it wouldn’t have occurred to that young prince to do something as menial as collecting firewood and he would have been arrogantly oblivious to the possible impact of the loss of a chicken on a poor family.  Who could see this man now and not want to follow him.

“They’re fine; they have several others and were pleased to get the coin.”

“So the bad harvest and the famine?”

“Didn’t happen,” replied Merlin, “The harvest was a very good one.”

“Which raises the question of why you’re doing a very good impression of a walking skeleton?”

“Oi!” said Merlin, “I’m not that thin.”

“Yes. You are,“ said Arthur seriously. 

Merlin leaned forward to turn the chicken so that it would cook evenly. “Well I’d start to remedy that if only this chicken would hurry up.”

“While we’re waiting for it you can start telling me what I’ve been missing with your magic.”  Something suddenly struck him and he stared at Merlin in astonishment before bursting into laughter. “When Gwen was enchanted, that ridiculous old witch by the lake…I’ve been so blind…”Arthur was rocking with laughter now. “I always suspected you of a craving to wear women’s clothing given half the chance…”

Merlin shook his head in exasperation, “Honestly, all I’ve done for you, and THIS is the thing you remember.”

“You make a very attractive old woman, Merlin…I must admit, if it was a choice between…what was it…? ”

“Dolma.”

“…between the gorgeous Dolma and Gwen I’d be hard pressed as who to pick…”

Merlin sighed heavily.  Arthur subsided into chuckles and got himself under control.   “Come on, tell me how you’ve been using your magic to help me and what I’ve been missing.  And if I’m to accept you as you are, then there need to be no more lies between us.  From now on you don’t keep anything from me.”

“I promise.  Though some of what I’ll tell you will be hard to accept, all I can say is that I’ve always acted with your best interests at heart…but sometimes it went wrong…for a start there was the dragon…”

And Merlin spoke until the chicken was cooked.  Then there was an easy silence as Arthur split the chicken in half and passed the larger portion to Merlin, they ate greedily, throwing the bones into the fire, and then licking the warm grease from their fingers.  The meat felt uncomfortable and heavy in his stomach, confirming that he probably hadn’t eaten like this in a good while.

Then after, he carried on with his tales while Arthur listened attentively, occasionally stopping him to ask questions.

“I wish I’d known sooner,“ said Arthur thoughtfully, “it sounds as though you made the best decisions you could at the time, but together we could perhaps have turned the course of events in a better direction sometimes.  I could have curbed your constant need to throw yourself into the way of any danger, and after my father had died you could have helped me openly with your magic.”

“I don’t know if you were ready to accept it sooner.  I’m glad you know now though, you don’t know how much of a burden it was to keep it from you.”

“Though we still don’t know if there’s something wrong with your magic on this world.  The…fit…that happened when you were trying to light the fire might have been a coincidence.”

“There’s something else.  I wasn’t sure whether to mention it, but you said not to keep anything from you, even the little things.”  Merlin lifted his tunic to reveal some of the bruising.

Arthur swore heavily and surged to his feet, pulling Merlin up with him.  “This is no little thing.” He spun Merlin roughly around and tugged up his tunic to reveal his back.  “Who did this?”

Merlin gently eased himself out of the death grip that Arthur had on his clothing.

Arthur strode across the room, kicked one of the chairs viciously out of his way, then turned on heel and strode back again.  When he spoke his voice was tight and quiet.  “Of course, you wouldn’t know.  But when we find out I’ll kill him.”

“It’s only a few bruises,” said Merlin, righting the chair and pulling it and the other over one over to the fire.  He sat down, and after a moment Arthur reluctantly sat as well, though one booted foot was tapping restlessly as though he still had the urge to kick something. 

“But if I had magic, I can’t imagine I would allow myself to be hit over and over again like this.”

“We need to know.  If Morgana is still alive, then we don’t know what we’ll have to face in Camelot.   I don’t want to ask this…I could see how much pain you were in…but…”

“I know.  I’ve been thinking the same thing myself.  I’ll try a different spell this time; I’ve been thinking that it could also just be the fire spell that starts it, since it felt as though I was burning.”

Arthur winced.

“I’ll just try something very small, perhaps the effect won’t be so bad”

But as soon as he began to conjure the blue butterfly, the burning sensation hit him, as forcefully as before. 

Arthur was white as parchment by the time Merlin stopped screaming and could be helped back into the chair.  Merlin looked mournfully at the puddle of vomit on the floor.  “So much for the chicken.”

Suddenly Arthur recoiled from him, then snapped forward and grabbed Merlin’s arm pulling it in front of him and pushing up the sleeve.  “I thought I saw…”

Merlin looked down in bemusement at his forearm, “What?”

And then he saw it too, and would have recoiled from his own arm if he could.  Something moving just under the pale skin, though he could not feel it at all and there was no pain.  For a moment it was scuttling just under the skin, and they could see the shape of it clearly, the wide round back of a large beetle…then it seemed to burrow down in between the muscles and the bones of his arm and was invisible. 

“Give me your knife!”

“What?”

“Give me your knife,” screeched Merlin, “I’m getting that out of me.”

He tried to grab the hunting knife from Arthur’s belt and was frustrated by Arthur firmly but gently grabbing his wrists. “You can’t start hacking up your arm to get it out.  You’ll bleed out on the floor before we ever get to it. We’ll go to Gaius, he’ll be able to help.”

“It must be magical.  I’ve never seen any real creature in any of Gaius’ books that does that.” Merlin shuddered. “It’s disgusting, I can’t bear it.”

Arthur rubbed reassuringly over Merlin’s forearm where they had seen the beetle, Merlin didn’t know how he could bear to touch him, he felt soiled with that thing inside him.

“Well, it’s not nice, and if I had to guess I’d assume that’s what’s turning your magic back on you.  But we’ll find a way to get it out of you safely.   Let’s get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll head for Camelot.”

“I’ll never sleep knowing that thing is crawling around inside me.”

Merlin cleaned up the vomit from the floor with a threadbare blanket from one of the beds, it was barely more than a rag anyway, and they wouldn’t miss it, no doubt anything better had long ago been taken by a passerby.  He opened the door and took a couple of steps outside to toss the dirty blanket under a nearby bush.  The night was crisp and cold and the sky bright with stars, from the position of Orion, high in the sky, he guessed it must be late in the year and approaching Yule. 

When he came back inside Arthur had put all the blankets on one of the beds and was stripping down to his underbreeches.   He slipped under the covers and moved over so that Merlin could join him.   Merlin stripped to his own underbreeches and joined him in the bed.  They’d shared a bedroll before when they were out hunting and it was cold and neither of them thought much about it. 

Merlin tried not to tremble as he looked at his arm, and then stuck it out over the side of the bed, so it was hanging as far away from him as possible.  The shadows from the dying fire flickered across it and he watched it obsessively, waiting and dreading any sign of movement beneath the skin.

He thought Arthur was asleep, but suddenly he half sat up. “You can’t sleep like that.”  He reached across Merlin, and grabbed the arm, pulling it gently back in to his body and then lying down again.

Arthur stayed spooned up against Merlin’s back, his arm around Merlin and his hand curved protectively around Merlin’s wrist.  His fingers were warm and reassuring and his thumb rubbed a gentle soothing pattern into Merlin’s skin.  Shortly afterwards, though Merlin had thought he’d never close his eyes that night, they were both deeply asleep. 


	10. Chapter 10

Merlin woke shortly after dawn, Arthur’s arm was still a comforting weight across him, and he lay still beneath it, enjoying the warmth and smiling at the sound of Arthur’s gentle snores.  Arthur’s breath was hot and damp against the back of his neck, tickling slightly as it moved the downy hair there.  Arthur was hard in his sleep, and Merlin could feel the pressure of it against the back of his thigh. 

Merlin wasn’t naïve; he knew that some men shared passion together.  In Ealdor, there had been two farmers whose wives had died; with age setting in, and no women appropriate for them to marry, they had ended up moving into one cottage together.  Ostensibly it was to share the workload, living alone was more than twice as hard as sharing tasks with someone else, but it was obvious that they’d grown close in every way.  They were an accepted part of the village as the years passed, and could often be seen at the end of a long summer’s day, having dragged their wooden chairs outside the cottage door to bask in the last of the sunshine.  And if they held each other’s withered hands as they sat there, what of it, and whose business was it but theirs.

Merlin wondered what it would be like to share that with Arthur, to kiss his mouth and then lick his tongue inside to taste him.  To have those strong hands touching him intimately…perhaps even holding him down, so though he might writhe from too much pleasure he wouldn’t be able to get away.

Damn!  And now he was hard too.  Arthur couldn’t wake up and find him like this. 

Even if Arthur wasn’t very much in love with his wife and even if Arthur had any thoughts towards men, he would never want Merlin.  A well-muscled knight, perhaps sweaty from combat, would catch his eye long before he noticed his scrawny servant.  Sudden vivid images of Arthur kissing Percival, or perhaps Gwaine, really weren’t helping Merlin to relax at all.

No, Arthur had called him skeletal the other night, and who would want to bed that.

Merlin slipped out from beneath Arthur’s arm without waking him and dressed quietly before padding over to get the embers of the fire blazing again.  He stepped out of the door into the cold morning and examined his arm critically in the daylight.   He couldn’t see any sign of the beetle from last night but perhaps it only made its way to the surface after he’d tried to use magic.  If so, then he was grateful.  He wasn’t squeamish, and at Gaius’ urging had even once tried eating beetles, when Camelot had been famine-hit.  He grinned fondly, remembering that it hadn’t been one of Gaius’ better ideas and they’d stopped after the first bite.  But knowing something like that was living inside him was a different thing again, and made him itchy and unsettled.  

Arthur was right though, he couldn’t do anything about it until he saw Gaius.  He pulled down his sleeve and strode briskly down the hill to the hamlet.  He still felt a little faint, but the forest was beautiful and he found he enjoyed the walk.  All the undergrowth and fallen leaves were frosted with ice crystals and the bare trees were a stark lacework against a sky so pale as to almost be white.

The woman he spoke to yesterday was pleased to see him, and happy to take more payment in exchange for a skin of water, a couple of wooden spoons and a small, iron cauldron of pottage.  He paid enough to keep the waterskin for the journey, but told her that he would leave the spoons and empty cauldron in the lodge for her to collect them later in the day after they’d left.

 

When he got within sight of the lodge he was surprised to see Arthur standing at the doorway.  He almost would have thought that he had been standing in the cold watching for his return except that would be ridiculous.  He raised the cauldron and the waterskin and grinned widely to show where he’d been.  Arthur grinned back and raised a hand in greeting, before ducking back into the warm. 

Once it was reheated over the fire Merlin put the cauldron of pottage on the table between them and they both dived in with their spoons.  The pottage was thick with winter vegetables and oats.   Merlin had noticed that the more famished you were, the better food seemed to taste when you finally got it, and this tasted remarkably good.  As they got to the end of it, their spoons accidentally clashed when they both went for the same morsel, and that was all it took to turn it into a laughing battle of spoons as they competed to knock each other out of the way to try to scoop up the last small, stray pieces of turnip and swede.

“Gods!  Merlin,“ said Arthur as they finally dropped their spoons on the table and sat back, “I could half want to just forget Camelot completely and travel in the opposite direction.”

“And do what?  Start that farm?”

“Or board a ship; I’ve always had a hankering to see Rome, they say the buildings are still a marvel.  Would you come with me if I did?”

“Of course,” said Merlin instantly, “I’ll follow you wherever you go, I’m your servant till the day I die, I told you that.  But farming would bore you within a month, and I think you’d soon be tired of travelling and long for Camelot again, your heart will always be there.  You were born to be the King.  It might often be a heavy burden, but despite that you love being in a position to make a difference.”

“You’re right of course.  But sometimes…”

“And then there’s Queen Guinevere.”

Arthur’s lips tightened unhappily, “Yes, then there’s Gwen.”

They set off towards Camelot later that morning, and by evening had reached a moderately prosperous village not too far away.  Merlin bought food and a flask of watered wine from one of the houses and got permission for himself and Arthur to bunk down in the cow barn.  The warmth from the cows kept the small barn warm enough, and there was thick hay stored on the upper level where they could sleep.  It would have been more comfortable to bunk down on the floor inside the house, but this way they could avoid anyone recognising Arthur and news getting back to Camelot before they were ready.

The next day they travelled on until the towers of Camelot came into view, and then agreed that Arthur would wait at the edge of the forest, while Merlin entered the city and made his way inconspicuously to Gaius.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Arthur gripped Merlin’s shoulder, “don’t take any risks, we’re just trying to get the lay of the land and see what our next move should be.”

************

Once inside the castle Merlin took a route through the lesser used corridors, but any servants who passed him didn’t seem surprised by his presence.  When Arthur had disappeared a few months ago, Merlin obviously hadn’t disappeared with him. 

He slipped through the door into the rooms he shared with Gaius and was relieved to hear the old man moving about in Merlin’s room rather than out collecting herbs or visiting patients.  He hurried across the main room and up the stairs, bursting impatiently into his bedroom.

It wasn’t Gaius. 

The figure had his back to the door, one hand held a thick, oak staff and with the other he was rummaging through the chest near the bed that contained Merlin’s meagre possessions.  Although his long brown robe was very similar to one of Gaius’, it was immediately obvious that he was taller and younger and his hair was a tangle of dirty blonde curls.  He turned sharply as he heard Merlin enter, and his face broke into a sudden smile that was twisted into something sinister by the dense network of pink scars that covered the right side of his face.

“Muirden!”

“I thought you’d finally given up and left this time,” Edwin Muirden came towards him, the staff tapping lightly on the floorboards, “I must admit I was terribly disappointed.  But I suppose you can’t bear to leave without puzzling out what happened to your beloved prince.  So you’re drawn back like a moth to a flame.”

He suddenly whipped the staff out in an arc, catching Merlin a brutal whack on the thigh.  “Well, since you’re here, you can make yourself useful; I need some more willow bark.”

Merlin hissed in pain and anger, and when Muirden moved to hit him again he caught the end of the staff in a fierce grip.

“Really? We’ve been through this before.  You know that if you assault the King’s physician you’ll be banished at the very least, and then how will you ever come to your prince’s rescue?  No,” added Muirden softly, “I think you’ll do as I tell you.”

Now was not the time to find himself thrown into the dungeon or worse, Merlin released the staff, and merely stared at Muirden in open hatred when he twitched it in a sharp, admonishing rap against Merlin’s ribs.

“Go!  There’s a crust on the table to take with you if you’re hungry,” Muirden grinned, “which I imagine you are.”

Merlin didn’t move, “What are you looking for?”

“I know Gaius still possessed at least one book of magic despite the _purge_ ,” he spat the word like a curse. “I had a guard search his packs before he left so I know he didn’t take it with him.“

Merlin carefully kept his expression neutral to hide the relief he felt at hearing that Gaius was still alive.  His first thought at seeing Muirden here was to fear the worst.

“And since it’s not hidden in the other room,“ continued Muirden, “I’m willing to lay odds that he gave it to you.  If you tell me where it is perhaps I may give you some small clue about what happened to Prince Arthur…”

Merlin’s response was rude and vicious enough to make Muirden’s blue eyes widen.  “I didn’t know you knew such language.  But no matter, I’ll find it on my own, never fear.”

Merlin focused intently on Muirden’s taunting blue eyes to ensure that his gaze didn’t flicker towards the floorboards beneath the bed.

“Go now, I need that willow bark.”  Muirden moved to casually strike Merlin with the staff again to send him on his way, but something in the ferocity of Merlin’s stare made him pause.  “You…seem different somehow…”

Merlin silently turned on his heel and went down the stairs.  He grabbed up his herb-collecting bag on his way through the other room.  The crust of bread Muirden had mentioned was both small and days old; he left it lying in the dust on the table and went out to meet Arthur. 


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin had hoped to get out of the castle without meeting anyone he knew too well, but on his way back down the twisting stairs by the laundry rooms he suddenly turned a corner to come face to face with Gwen, her arms full of a wicker basket of Morgana’s clothes.

“Merlin!  I’ve been so worried about you.  Where have you been? “

She was dressed in a primrose yellow dress, and, pretty as it was, it was obviously the dress of a maidservant, not a queen.  But then, with Uther still alive in this world what else would she be.  If he had breath in his body then Uther would never have allowed his son to marry a servant.

“Gwen…I…”

“You disappeared three days ago, I was mad with worry.  I half-hoped you’d gone to join Gaius.  The way Muirden treats you…you shouldn’t have to go through that.” 

“I’m fine Gwen, really.  Muirden has just asked me to go and collect some willow bark.”  He tried to edge past her but she blocked his path with the basket.

“I’ve pleaded with Morgana to do something about him, but you know how she dotes on him now, ever since he cured the nightmares.”

Really?  Well that was interesting.  In his world Muirden had used Morgana as an oblivious tool to reach his own ends, but if Muirden had realized that the King’s ward had magic…  Merlin well remembered how Muirden had tried to entice him into joining him, and how appealing it had been.  Without his solid love for Gaius to ground him, perhaps he might have taken a different path himself.  Were Morgana and Muirden working together?  That would make sense.

“But she won’t hear anything against him.  I’ve told her how you’re wasting away, and…you’ve got to know that I’ve noticed the way you hold yourself when you move, even if no-one else does, you’re always in pain…”

Gwen was never angry, and he was embarrassed to see it on his behalf, especially when he was unable to give her any good news yet to make her feel a little better, such as how Arthur was alive, or at least, that the Arthur that he knew, if not her version, was safe and waiting outside in the forest.

“I’m fine, Gwen, really I am.  When you saw me, three days ago?  Where was I going?  I mean, I forget, was I on my way into town?”

Gwen looked at him with anxious pity, obviously putting his forgetfulness down to lack of food and mistreatment.  For a moment he thought she might even drop the basket and hug him.   “You said you were going up Camlann Hill, you didn’t say why but you looked so distraught.  I went up there as soon as my duties were over, to look for you, but you weren’t there.  What happened?”

“Nothing, I came back.”  He leaned forward and gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek that made her blush.  “Thank you, Gwen.  You don’t know how helpful you’ve been.”

***********

Merlin bought some more food and another wineskin on his way out of the castle environs, and found Arthur where he had left him just inside the border of the forest.

Arthur was sitting on a fallen log, poking restlessly at the fire crackling in front of him.  He rose eagerly to his feet as Merlin came into view.  “So, did you see Gaius?”

“Gaius has left Camelot.  I went to our rooms and found Muirden there.”

“Muirden!”

Merlin pulled the two skinned rabbits from his bag and spitted them onto a slim branch to hang over the fire.  While he worked he told Arthur what had happened.  For some reason Arthur seemed most fixated on the fact that Muirden had hit him, in fact even insisting on viewing the new bruises on Merlin’s thigh and ribs, growing more tense and angry as he did so.  Merlin couldn’t help but think that he was missing the point.  “So Muirden and Morgana together would be a force to be reckoned with.”

“I’ll kill him; I’ll scoop his bloody brains out of his burned face with a spoon.”

Merlin burst into laughter, “Much as I appreciate the sentiment, shouldn’t we be worrying about Morgana as well.  She and Muirden have obviously devised some plot together, which is why Muirden hasn’t tried to immediately murder Uther as soon as he had the opportunity.”

“Did you find out why Gaius left?”

“I didn’t like to question Gwen too closely about things that I should already know.  But I would imagine that Muirden blackmailed Gaius as he did in our world, and told him that if he didn’t go quietly then he’d reveal my magic to Uther.”

“So, the question is, why didn’t you go with him?”

Merlin was blankly surprised that Arthur didn't automatically know the answer to that one, and was forced to state the utterly obvious, “As if I’d ever leave without finding out what happened to you.”


	12. Chapter 12

They’d walked within sight of the castle wall now, and it was time to separate. 

“I’ll keep a sharp eye,“ said Merlin, “and watch their reactions to your return.  I can’t wait to see their faces when you walk into the courtyard.”

“If either Morgana or Muirden do leave, and you follow them, then for the Gods’ sake be careful.  You’re really not famed for your nimble quietness.”

Merlin sniffed, “I’ll have you know I’ve done a lot of successful…skulking…without your knowledge.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, “Anyone who uses the word ‘skulking’ shouldn’t be doing it!  And how much of that was aided with magic?  Which, at the moment, you don’t have.” 

Merlin wondered whether he was right, whether without magic he really was the clumsy, idiot manservant that he was often accused of being.

A few moments later Arthur smacked him softly up the side of the head. 

“Owww!”

“When the dice are thrown I’d rather have you at my side than any knight,” Arthur said, “I must be mad, since at least they know which is the right end of a sword.’

“Is it the pointy bit?”

They both noticed that a group of four knights were exiting the gates on an afternoon patrol, even from this distance it was easy to see the that the knight in front had a mess of reddish blond curls. 

“Leon!  Well that’s good timing,” said Arthur, “wish me luck.”

But when he turned his head Merlin was nowhere to be seen, his mouth gaped open briefly before he snapped it shut with an expression of amused irritation. 

From the cover of a nearby bush Merlin grinned.  Ha!  He was an expert skulker!  …He was _fairly_ sure that was a word, and if it wasn’t then it would definitely become one, as he’d already decided that he was going to remind Arthur of that fact at every opportunity for the next few months at least.

***************

It was wonderful to watch the first knight meeting his prince after the long absence when Leon had thought him lost. 

The knights on horseback tensed as they approached and realised that the figure standing in the middle of the broad, dusty road was making no move to get out of their way.  Merlin could almost tell the exact moment when Leon recognised Arthur, as a sudden weight seemed to leave his shoulders and he sat up straighter and his face broke into the most delighted smile that Merlin had ever seen the dour man wear.

A few yards from Arthur, Leon threw himself recklessly from his horse and landed on the road so heavily that he almost stumbled over.  However the stumble turned into a hasty run and a moment later he had charged into Arthur and had fixed him in a fierce bear hug.

The other knights approached more decorously, and dismounted quietly, giving the two friends time to be reunited.

And then Leon seemed to suddenly remember his place and the presence of the knights behind him; he stiffened and released Arthur abruptly, stepping backwards with stiff-backed embarrassment.  Arthur grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, and Leon relaxed again as they exchanged greetings, and Arthur told him the story that he and Merlin had decided on last night while sheltering in the cow barn; that Arthur had been suffering from amnesia and had only just recently remembered something of his home and returned to it.

After some intense conversation, one of the knights passed his horse to Arthur, and he, Leon, and the others swung into their saddles and spurred their mounts back towards the castle. 

The knight who had given up his horse began the slow walk back down the road to Camelot.  At the same time, hidden by the undergrowth at the side of the road, and the knight’s unseen and unheard companion on the journey back, so did Merlin.

 

***************

Due to the unexpected meeting with the knights and Arthur's return to horseback for the last part of the journey, Merlin ended up reaching the courtyard too late to see the reunion or anyone's reaction to it.  But by the time he entered the castle it was already buzzing with the joyous news of Prince Arthur’s return. 

Rufus, the kitchen cook in charge of pastries, pulled Merlin aside in the corridor.  Merlin had always considered Rufus a good friend, but he gathered from the man’s sheepish demeanour now, that Rufus must have dropped him, ironically like the proverbial hot cake, as soon as Arthur had disappeared and Merlin had suddenly fallen from favour.

Now that Arthur had returned Rufus was anxious to get back into Merlin’s good books.   “King Uther rushed out into the courtyard in his nightclothes,” Rufus caught Merlin’s surprised look, and continued, “well you know how he just lingers in bed all day since the Prince disappeared.  He raced down the stairs like a man half his age and had his arms wrapped around the prince’s leg so tightly that Arthur found it hard to even get off his horse.”

He could see Rufus eyeing him nervously to see what else he could say to curry friendship.  After a moment Rufus seemed to make a decision and plunged in with, “Well that will put the lid on Morgana and her hopes of getting Uther to declare her as the next heir.”  He continued quickly, “I heard it from King Uther’s manservant, who overheard them.  She has a right to the throne, she’s Uther’s bastard, so it seems.  But with Arthur back, all those dreams will be back to dust again.”

Yes, thought Merlin.  Now Arthur is back and her ambitions are turned to dust and she has nothing to lose.  And someone with nothing to lose is the most dangerous of all.

He took a polite leaving from Rufus, feeling a little bit melancholy, as this was a man who he had very much liked and who now he knew that he could never really like again. 

While the feast was in preparation and Arthur was with his Father, Merlin had time to slip out and walk up to Camlann Hill. Camlann Hill; the place that Gwen had said she'd last seen him running to, apparently ‘distraught’. 

Camlann was such a common place name, it meant merely crooked-bank and was the name of a thousand random fields and hills where a twisting stream curved round.  And yet, the fact that this hill was called that made Merlin’s stomach heave.  He knew the Battle had been leagues from here, and yet…

He made his way out of the North Exit of the castle and walked briskly towards Camlann Hill.


	13. Chapter 13

Camlann Hill turned out to be a bit of an anti-climax.  Merlin had been here before, though not often…no-one came here often.  There was nothing here but some scrubby grass, well-littered with stones, and a few stands of trees, and even those were mostly the small, hardy trees like Hawthorn and Elder that can find a foothold even in the worst conditions.   

He shivered in his jacket and thin tunic; there was still plenty of snow lingering on the ground up here and the wind seemed to catch the chill from it as it whistled across the hill.

He wandered around a little, wanting to return to the relative warmth of the castle, but feeling that there was something here that he must be missing.  That was when he literally stumbled across the remains of a cottage; his boot catching on a stone half hidden in the earth.

The dwelling was barely more than a vague outline on the ground now, just a few stones set into the dirt showing where the walls might have been.  The rest of the stones from the walls had obviously been looted for building materials once the cottage was abandoned and fell into disrepair.

He stood still for a moment in the ruined relic of what might have been the main living room, looking across the valley at the graceful spires of Camelot and wondering what was happening inside, and how Arthur was finding his reunion with Uther.  While it must be wonderful to see his father alive again, Merlin wondered how well Arthur would cope with being back in the role of Crown Prince.

In their own world Arthur had already ruled for several years now, making his own decisions, and passing laws much wiser than any Uther ever made.  How easy would it be to go back to a role of obeying, rather than being the one obeyed.

Even most of the knights they loved were not here… Gwaine and Elyan and Percival…no knights without noble blood could be in Uther’s company.

Arthur would never wish his father dead, Merlin knew that, but…it was like someone who had left the family home, then trying to move back in again.  As much as he loved Hunith, he didn’t think he’d want to actually live with her again on a permanent basis.  At some point in their life a man needs space to find his own way.

It was only because he was so silent and lost in thought that he even heard the quiet footsteps crunching through the snow on the path.  Merlin looked desperately for cover.  There was a gorse bush off to his right, and its evergreen mass sprawled from about waist height right down to mask the floor.  It even had some egg-yolk-yellow flowers still poking through the dusting of snow on its branches. 

The old saying popped into his head as he ran the few steps across to sling himself down behind it.  “When gorse is out of bloom, then kissing’s out of fashion.”  Always true, because, even in the deepest winter, a gorse bush somewhere would be pushing out those eager, hopeful, yellow flowers. 

The bush had accumulated a drift of snow behind it that Merlin was forced to kneel in and it instantly began soaking through his trousers and melting into his boots.  He shivered violently, but nestled down out of sight in the shadow of it, with the small, yellow flowers kissing his hair, and watched the path through its thorny branches. 

It was Muirden’s boots making those crunching footfalls through the snow.   He was warmly bundled up in a brown, hooded cloak and stalked up into the centre of the abandoned wreck of the cottage.  Once there he stopped and seemed to be waiting for someone.

A little while later, and neither he, nor Muirden, heard their approach, a figure suddenly appeared from the other bank of the hill.  The person threw back the voluminous hood of their moss-green cloak and Merlin was unsurprised to see Morgana.

“What’s going on, Muirden? You were there, you saw him?”

“We both know it’s not possible, it must be magic.  It’s some imposter with a glamour on them to make them look like Arthur trying to take advantage of his disappearance.”

“As soon as Uther looked out the window and saw him entering the courtyard I was forgotten,“ hissed Morgana bitterly.  “Since he disappeared I’ve been the centre of Uther’s world, and now suddenly I’m back to being the bastard offspring that he barely notices.”

“Uther dotes on you, Morgana,” said Muirden mildly.

“Yes, with dresses and jewels and golden combs for my hair, but not with power.  I want to be his heir.  I deserve to be.  I’ve more cunning in my little finger than my brother had in his whole body…he was just an oaf on a muddy tourney field playing at swords.”

“And I will help you to the throne,” said Muirden obsequiously.

Morgana stilled, “You told me Merlin’s magic was strong, you don’t think he could be behind this?”

Muirden laughed, “With that beetle I put in his arm?  I think not.  If he even tries to light a candle with his magic he’ll be in agony.  I chose burning for the pain, I think that’s appropriate, don’t you?  After what Arthur’s family did to mine, and the way Gaius stood by and let it happen.   This was their cottage you know, this place we’re standing in.  My parents burned alive in here for being magic users, while Uther and his knights stood round and watched.”  Muirden’s eyes narrowed as he looked around at what had been his childhood home, “but someone’s been up here recently, the snow’s been scuffed up…”

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat.  Shivers were now racking his body and it was impossible to hold completely still, he just hoped that the shelter of the gorse bush and the snow hid him from view.

“Gwen,“ said Morgana dismissively. “She told me she’d been up here looking for Merlin, I think she’s scoured most of the district looking for him.”

“He’s back,” said Muirden, “I saw him this morning, he still knows nothing.”

“I need to see…”

“I’ve told you there’s no need, you put the dagger in Arthur’s back yourself and watched him die.”

It was all Merlin could do not to make a sound, he clamped one hand across his mouth.

“And yet, now he’s walking around down there,” continued Morgana glaring at the castle. “How many times do I have to kill him before he stays dead!”

“This is a trick, we both know it.”

“I need to see.”

Muirden sighed, but walked out of the stone outline of the cottage and a yard or so over to another sprawling gorse bush.  Merlin watched him in confusion, there was nothing there, he’d already walked past that spot himself. 

Muirden used a nearby fallen branch to lift and wedge the gorse branches to one side, then knelt and swept the snow aside with the edge of his sleeve.  Merlin was glad his hand was still across his mouth when he saw the iron lid of an old well appear.  The lid was set into the ground, and barely more than a crude sheet of thin metal with a rusted handle, just enough to keep whoever had lived here from falling in when it wasn’t in use.

Morgana had walked over to stand behind him while he was doing this, and now leaned forward to peer eagerly over Muirden’s shoulder as he lifted the lid.  As the metal came up they both reeled back coughing, then leaned back in to stare down the well.

“Satisfied?”

“Very,” said Morgana.

Muirden replaced the lid and camouflaged the well as it had been before. 

“The feast will be starting soon, I need to get back and change, but we’ll talk more in the morning?  Find a way to get rid of this sorcerer pretending to be my brother?”

“Of course, my lady.”

Muirden and Morgana separated and started their separate routes back to the castle.

As soon as he was certain they were both definitely gone, Merlin clumsily rose to his feet.  He was so stiff from the cold that he could barely move, his clothes were wet and starting to freeze to his body. 

He stumbled across to the well rubbing his hands to together to try and un-numb his fingers, then used the branch to push aside the gorse bush as Muirden had done.  He moved to kneel down, but it turned into more of a shuddering, uncoordinated collapse.  It left him on his knees though, so that was good enough.  He brushed away the snow that Muirden had kicked back into place.

The lid lay in front of him.  The sight of it, the black surface of the metal scarred and pitted with rust,  made his heart thump in his chest like a hammer.  He needed to lift it, but a part of him didn’t want to, didn’t want to see what it held.

He grabbed the handle with both hands and tugged the lid across to one side.  It was heavier than it looked and as soon as it started to move his nostrils were hit by the stench of rot.

He gagged, but moved the lid further so that light could fall down the well.  The well had obviously long been dry, and was deep enough that the daylight barely illuminated the bottom.  But he could make out a glint of gold and a splash of red.  For a moment he couldn’t make out quite what he was seeing, and leaned further over, eyes narrowed as he tried to puzzle it out.  

And then suddenly his brain made sense of what had seemed like random shapes down there in the gloom.  It was a body, lying face down.  The glint of gold was a dagger that still protruded from the corpse’s lower back, stabbing right through the familiar red jacket.  There was no doubt he was dead, his arm was sprawled out to one side, and Merlin could see bones just beginning to appear through the remains of the flesh.  There was a glint of metal on one of the fingers and Merlin didn’t need to be any closer to know what the ring would look like.  He was grateful he couldn’t see the face, but even death hadn’t altered the blond hair.

For a moment the arms supporting him almost gave out and Merlin had to lurch sideways to avoid plunging down the well.

He landed on his side on the snow, the black opening with its horrid contents gaping by his side.

He knew his Arthur was down in Camelot and, at least for the moment, safe and healthy. He was probably in his rooms getting dressed for the feast and wondering where Merlin was.

But this had been Arthur too, as real as his own Arthur, and with the same bright destiny.  Morgana had stolen that from him with her vicious ambition.  Merlin felt the tears begin to pour down his cheeks and didn’t even try to stop them.  If he hadn’t known that his own Arthur was alive then Merlin wasn’t sure that he would even have bothered to get up again.

But very soon he knew he would get up.  He knew it because he could feel a fierce anger burning deep inside him that could only be quenched by Morgana’s blood.  He would go back to the castle, and he and Arthur would work out how to kill Morgana.  Because Merlin had no doubts in his mind that Morgana was going to die, and if Arthur still had any qualms about it, then Merlin would see that it happened and Arthur never found out.

But for the moment, those plans seemed distant and all he could think of was the body of his King, murdered and dumped in a well to rot alone and slowly be forgotten.  Merlin allowed himself to curl up on his side in the snow and gave himself up to weeping. 


	14. Chapter 14

Eventually Merlin knew he’d have to move or freeze to death and hauled himself back up onto his knees.  He replaced the lid of the well as it had been, whispering an affectionate goodbye to Arthur as he did so, then re-covered it with the snow and branches.  Unsteadily, he pushed himself to his feet and began the slow trudge back to the castle.

The feast was in progress by the time he arrived, with a steady bustle of servants going in and out of the Great Hall carrying in huge platters of meats and sweetmeats and the best of the wines from Uther’s cellar.  The sound of countless, chattering voices came through the open doors and Merlin poked his head round to check that Muirden was already there so that he could duck up to their rooms to change. 

The Hall was full of knights, nobles and their ladies dressed in their best finery, laughing and talking.  Silks and wools in all the colours of the rainbow made a backdrop for gold necklaces and vibrant gems that sparkled gaily in the light from the torches.  After what he had just seen it all seemed unreal, like a perfect peach skin that would burst when you touched it to reveal the black and rotten fruit within.

Muirden was there, sitting a few seats down from a beaming Uther.  Morgana was dressed in her best emerald silk and was sitting rather stiffly on her father’s left sipping morosely from a silver goblet, while Arthur had the position of honour on his right.

Arthur must have been watching for him, because although he seemed deep in conversation with his father, he spotted Merlin in the doorway immediately.  Whatever he saw made him concerned because his brows drew together in an urgent questioning look.  Merlin shook his head briefly and made a movement with his hand that he hoped indicated that he’d be back shortly.

When he reached his room, he stripped out of his wet clothes and took care to dry himself briskly and well, trying to rub some warmth back into his icy flesh.  He slipped on a change of clothes, his faded blue tunic and red neckerchief this time.  He didn’t have another pair of boots, so he had no choice but to pull those back on, cold and wet as they were.

He made his way into the Great Hall and took up his old position behind Arthur’s chair.  The servant who was waiting on Arthur, seemed to automatically give way to him, as though already expecting him to take his customary place.  

When he leaned forward to refill Arthur’s cup Arthur took the opportunity to hiss at him under his breath, “What happened to you?  You look dreadful.”

Merlin saw Morgana staring at them intently, and it took a huge effort to keep his expression carefully wooden.  “I’ll tell you after the feast.”

Arthur had no choice but to nod.  Merlin could tell he was itching to hear what Merlin had to say, but there was no way that he could politely excuse himself from his own home-coming celebration.

**************

The feast went on late into the night, Arthur had raised his cup often, but had actually drunk very little, often merely putting it to his lips and putting it down untasted.  Merlin came forward at regular intervals, often just pretending to refill it.

Finally Uther was ready to go to bed.  He rose to his feet, unsteady from the wine, and pulled Arthur into a warm embrace.  Arthur hugged him hard and Merlin could see him burying his face in his father’s shoulder, using the excuse of drunkenness to exchange the affection that they so rarely did.

Morgana pushed back her chair and Merlin’s grip tightened almost painfully on the silver wine jug.  She came over to embrace Arthur and murmured something about being overjoyed to have him back, that made Uther smile at her indulgently.  It took all of Merlin’s self-control not to take the heavy silver jug and just swing it with all his force into the side of her head before anyone could react to stop him. 

But now was certainly not the time to act.  He remained motionless, and when her gaze slid slyly across to him he avoided her look and gazed blankly out across the Hall.

They left most of the revelers still continuing, Merlin knew from previous feasts that many of them would not stumble drunkenly back to their homes until dawn.

As they turned to go upstairs Arthur caught a passing servant’s attention, his voice was sharp and had no hint of drunkenness.  “Fetch a large platter of the choicest foods to my room, and a flagon of the Syrian wine.”

The servant was startled for a moment, obviously wondering how Arthur could possibly want more food when he’d just been feasting for hours.  But then his mouth snapped shut, realising that it was not his place to question anything the Prince asked for and scurried away.

“You can’t still be hungry?” snorted Merlin in disbelief as they turned up the stairs towards Arthur’s chambers.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “It’s for you, you fool.”

“Oh…thank you.”

Another servant must have run ahead as soon as they saw Arthur rise from the table, so, by the time they reached them, Arthur’s chambers were already warm and cosy with candles burning and a fire blazing in the fireplace. 

Merlin slipped his boots off and put them in front of the flames.  At Arthur’s raised eyebrows he responded, “They’re soaking.”

By the time they’d drawn two chairs up to the fire and pulled the small table over between them the servant was knocking at the door with the food and wine.

Then finally they were alone, and Merlin did try his best not to fall on the food like a ravening wolf, but probably failed.  And if he tended to speak with his mouth full then Arthur didn’t comment on it.

He told Arthur all that had happened since they parted, though carefully leaving out the part where he had spent at least an hour sobbing over Arthur’s lonely corpse like an orphaned child.

“We have to kill her.”

Arthur blanched, “Believe me, I know how bad Morgana is, but perhaps imprisonment without release…”

“We’ve rolled those dice before, and it led to disaster.  No, this time we kill her, poison, a dagger in the back such as she used on you, it doesn’t matter how, but we do it fast before she can start plotting again.  She doesn’t deserve our pity.”

Arthur looked at him strangely, “This isn’t like you, Merlin.”

“Then perhaps it should have been,” said Merlin harshly,”I was so concerned about doing what was right that I failed you and you almost died.  On this world you DID die.  Well, not this time.  You’re worth a hundred of her.  This time I will see you safe no matter what I have to do.”

Arthur reached across the gap between them and grabbed Merlin’s hands between his own, stilling their nervous movement. “I’m grateful for your loyalty, Merlin.  But I meant what I said before; I want you to never change.  And that doesn’t just mean your magic.”

“But…”

Arthur put a gentle finger across Merlin’s lips to quiet him, and Merlin was so shocked that the words caught in his throat.

There was a long moment, with the fire sending its warm flickering shadows across them, that they stared into each other’s eyes and wondered at what they saw there.  Then Arthur half rose and leaned forward across the table, replacing his finger with his lips in a kiss that was as tentative as it was earnest.

For a moment Merlin was still, shivering at his touch like a skittish horse.  And then suddenly he surged up from his seat and was around the table pulling Arthur’s warm and living body close to his own.  His mouth finding Arthur’s desperately as if the feel of his lips could banish the memory of the pitiful corpse in the well. 

“Merlin…Merlin…”  Arthur’s lips left his and Merlin ached with loss for a moment, but then those lips were peppering kisses across his eyelids and down his cheeks and strong hands that he’d never thought he’d feel caressing his bare skin were pushing up under his tunic and kneading the flesh there in a way that almost made him want to die in that instant and not have to experience a moment less glorious than this.

“Shall we take this to the bed?”  Arthur drew back a little, still tentative, still making sure not to push Merlin anywhere he didn’t want to go.

Merlin would have been ashamed at the neediness in his voice if he could have found it in himself to care.  But in this moment he had no sense of himself and felt no embarrassment.  There was only Arthur, still…thank the Goddess…still very much alive and warm and…Oh yes!…hard…very hard…beneath his roaming hands.   “Oh yes!  Oh, please Gods. Yes, the bed!” 


	15. Chapter 15

They moved across to the bed eagerly, and stood beside it to kiss again, and this time there was no hesitancy in it, but a powerful, driving need to get as close as possible.

Arthur moved to rip his shirt up over his head, but Merlin’s hand on his arm stopped him.  “Let me do it.”

“You know you’re not my servant in…this.”

“I know, but I want to.”

He often helped Arthur to disrobe, but this was something different, this was the promise of unwrapping something prized.  Like being gifted Excalibur wrapped in a silken cloth.  The first time you revealed it, you would want to enjoy the moment, uncovering it…reverently… 

Arthur seemed to sense what Merlin craved and dropped his hands to his sides, allowing Merlin to take care of him.

Merlin took hold of the hem of Arthur’s red shirt and pulled it upwards, the taut stomach came into view, and Merlin could tell by its stillness that Arthur was holding his breath, then came the arched dip where stomach was girded by ribs, the hard ripple of the muscle across the ribs, built up from years of wielding a heavy sword.  The broad chest then, dusted with fine blond hair gilded by the candlelight.

The firelight flickered warmly across them, turning Arthur’s body into a golden landscape of curving muscle and deep warm shadows waiting to be explored.  Merlin kept the shirt up with one hand while with the other he ran his fingers over the contours of the body, from waistband up to collarbone, trying to store the beauty in his memory so that he would be able to call it back whenever he wanted.  The nipples too, a deep flushed pink amongst the golden hair, he gently brushed across them, noting how they seemed to tighten and shiver beneath the rough pads of his fingertips.

From the corner of his eye he saw Arthur’s lips were parted, and watched as the tip of his tongue flickered out to moisten his lower lip, and suddenly he wanted to experience that himself.  He leaned in close, and tilted his head to lick slowly across Arthur’s full lower lip making it shiny and wet.

Arthur groaned, low in his throat, and the sound made something deep in the pit of Merlin’s stomach thrum in response like a vibrating lute string

He helped Arthur pull the shirt completely off, and then impulsively reached up to run his fingers through the tousled blond hair, just because he could, because he was finally allowed this intimacy and he wanted to take it all.

He wondered if Arthur would be laughing at him, but when he looked Arthur’s blue eyes were fixed on him with a dark intensity as though Merlin was a fascinating puzzle that he was trying to understand.  His breathing was shallow and he was using all his self-control to hold himself back and allow Merlin to do as he pleased.  Merlin smiled then, warm and fond, and kissed the side of his mouth. 

Arthur sat on the red coverlet, while Merlin knelt to remove his boots.  But when he rose to his feet again Merlin remained on his knees.  Merlin could see the flicker of surprise move across his face as he realised that Merlin had no intention of standing up. 

His hands moved to Arthur’s waistband and pulled down.  The sharp jut of his hip bones came into view and Merlin yearned to kiss those soon.  Then further down and he saw the tight curls of hair and nestling among them, the root of Arthur’s cock.  It was Merlin’s turn to breathe shallowly now.  He pulled the fabric down further, releasing the cock so that it jutted forward, firm and pink.  And all thoughts of hip bones were momentarily replaced.

He leaned forward, nuzzling into the soft hair, and feeling the delicate skin soft and warm against his cheek. 

“Merlin...” He heard his name murmured like a prayer and Arthur’s fingers came down to tangle gently in his hair.  Merlin tilted his head to one side, just to feel the enjoyable pull of it, the sensation of being tied to Arthur.

He breathed warm damp air across the sensitive skin, delighting in the way it seemed to shudder in response.

He pulled the clothing all the way down then, down the thick muscular thighs and onto the floor, so that Arthur could step out of it and stand naked.  Merlin leaned forwards, and flicked out his tongue to lick the head.  It was hot against his tongue and tasted of salt and pre-come.   

“Merlin, please…”  Arthur sounded wrecked. 

Merlin took pity on him then, and took the head between his lips, swirling his tongue to taste it again, then opened his mouth further to let it slide inside.  He took it in as deeply as he could, delighting in the sensation of being filled with Arthur. 

Arthur’s hands tightened convulsively in his hair, and Merlin moaned happily.  The vibration must have done something to Arthur as he bucked forwards wildly and Merlin had to pull back to avoid being choked.  Before Arthur had a chance to worry, Merlin dived forwards again, and they set up a hard rhythm with Merlin sucking and moaning while Arthur fucked urgently into his mouth.

The climax came all too soon and Arthur spilled into Merlin’s mouth with a gasp of completion.  Merlin sat back on his heels, feeling warm and sated and full of love for the golden god still standing over him.

He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and it came away sticky, he wondered if his lips looked red.

Now the act was over, Merlin had space for insecurity to creep in.  Arthur had wanted this, he knew that, but now it was over, would he want to move on briskly and forget it had happened.  Or would there, Merlin could feel his heart pattering with hope, would there be the chance to do it again.

He raised his eyes nervously, and was startled to find Arthur watching him intently, as though his every movement was fascinating.

Arthur’s fingers drifted lightly across Merlin’s cheekbone and down to press against the swollen lips.  “Every time I think I know you…”

Arthur pulled Merlin to his feet, and then abruptly tugged him close, to whisper hot and silky in Merlin’s ear, “My turn.”

“Really, you don’t have to…”

“Merlin!  Unless you are about to say that I repulse you and you couldn’t bear me to touch you… in which case I will, of course, stop immediately…then for once in your life, please stop trying to take charge.”

For once, Merlin thought he might follow an order with no objection at all.

Arthur pushed Merlin back towards the bed, and this time it was his turn to undress Merlin.  When Merlin tried to help, he batted Merlin’s hands away gently but firmly with a terse, “Mine!”  

He struggled with the neckerchief, but Merlin had no complaints, since it meant being hugged close against Arthur’s naked body with his hot breath huffing impatiently against Merlin’s neck as he wrestled with the knot.  He finally tugged it free with a small exclamation of triumph then began wrestling the rest of his clothes from him.

And it did feel almost like wrestling, Arthur’s hands on him were urgent and desperate, as though getting Merlin naked was the most important thing in his life right now. 

Merlin hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed, he knew what he looked like at the moment, and it wasn’t exactly attractive.

Arthur finally achieved his mission.  Then with a mischievous grin he pushed Merlin in the centre of the chest so that he fell backwards with a yelp of surprise and landed on his back on the bed in an ungainly sprawl, bouncing twice before coming to rest. 

Arthur gazed down at him, taking in the length of his pale body against the blood-red coverlet.  Merlin watched his face, waiting for the expression of disappointment or revulsion that he would try to hide…but it never came.  Arthur just devoured him with his eyes like a starving man at a feast.

‘You are so beautiful.”

Merlin flinched, he knew he was starvation thin and covered with bruises, but he hadn’t expected cruelty.

Arthur frowned at his reaction and lowered himself quickly down on top of him to hold him in place before he had a chance to twist away and roll off the bed.  “I mean it.”

Merlin huffed and covered his burning eyes with his forearm. “I look a wreck.”

“You’re too thin, yes.”  Arthur noticed his wince and continued firmly, “and I am going to take great pleasure in feeding you back to health.  But you are…and always have been… beautiful.  And as for these,”  he raised himself up on his arms and bent his head down to kiss a yellowing bruise, ‘and these,” he pressed his lips lovingly to one of Merlin’s bony ribs, “every one of them is a testament to how much you love me and how much you have gone through, and would go through, to protect me.“

Merlin felt tears rising behind his eyes and really didn’t want to cry as he would lose all credibility forever.

“And,“ continued Arthur, kissing reverently down each of Merlin’s ribs as though they were holy relics to be worshiped. "I cannot imagine loving anyone else as I love you.”

His kisses moved down to Merlin's concave stomach, and then lower. ..

Merlin gasped and writhed, and Arthur’s strong hands held him lovingly still, in a way that until now Merlin had only experienced in his darkest fantasies.

The rest of the night passed in a bliss of exhaustion and recovery, and of discovering what they could do with their bodies and in how many joyous ways they could be fitted together.

And if, as the night went on, they became increasingly open with their endearments, and if they slept in the early morning tangled in each other’s arms so closely that it was hard to distinguish where one body began and one ended...

...then it felt inevitable, as though something long awaited was finally in motion, like a coin spinning on edge so that the two different sides blurred together and became one. 


	16. Chapter 16

Dawn came late in mid-winter, so although Merlin had slept far later than usual, the room was still dark when he opened his eyes.  He was sprawled almost on top of Arthur; his chest was warm and firm, rising and falling gently under Merlin’s cheek.  He stretched slightly, enjoying the fact that he could barely move his legs because they were tangled in with Arthur’s.  He felt deliciously loose limbed and contented, like a cat lying in the sun, the idea made him smile, and on impulse he made a feline movement with his head just to feel the chest hair rub softly against his face.

“Stop squirming.” Arthur’s fingers moved to gently card through his hair; it felt like being stroked and Merlin was only sorry he couldn’t purr.  “Are you always this tactile in the morning?”

“I don’t know, it hasn’t happened before.”

Arthur’s fingers stilled, “Not with anyone?  I thought perhaps…Gwaine?”

“No, I just never seemed to get around to it.”

Arthur chuckled, and Merlin could feel the vibrations through his body in a most delightful way.  The fingers resumed their slow movement through his hair.  “How do you feel?”

Merlin considered, “Perhaps a little sore and achy, but good.  Very good.”

For a while they were content just to lie there watching the room gradually lighten, then Arthur broke the easy silence, “I want to go up to the well this morning.  Everyone will be sleeping late after last night’s feast, and we should be able to get up there and back without being missed.”

Merlin propped himself up on one elbow so that he could see Arthur’s face, “Are you sure you want to see…your other self?”

“Not sure at all.  But I think I need to.  It affects how I deal with Morgana and until I actually see it with my own eyes…  Well, it’s a difficult thing to really come to terms with, the idea that another you is lying dead somewhere.”

Merlin reluctantly extricated himself from the comfort of Arthur’s body and hurried across the chilly stone floor.  He crouched naked by the hearth to light the fire.  “I miss my magic,” he said irritably as the fire stubbornly refused to catch.

Arthur had risen to his feet and was slipping into his clothes, his voice was momentarily muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head, “One of our first priorities should be to get that back.  Against magic users like Morgana and Muirden we need to be able to fight fire with fire.” The shirt was on now, and his voice was clear and thoughtful as he began pulling on his trousers. “Your magic is one of our best weapons.  Is there anyone else besides Gaius who might know how to get that beetle out of you?”

The fire caught at the same instant that the idea came, “Of course, Kilgharrah!”

“The dragon?  Do you know where he is?”

“A lot of things here seem similar to how they were a few years ago, if events had taken a slightly different course.  I wonder whether he might still be chained up beneath the castle.”

“From all that you’ve told me about him, I don’t trust him.”

“At the end he helped me take you to Avalon, and…at least in our world, by the time we left, there was a definite friendship between us.  I don’t know whether that’s had time or reason to grow here though.”

Merlin picked up his tunic from the floor, smiling as he remembered how Arthur had flung it away as soon as he’d got it off Merlin’s body, impatient to get Merlin’s trousers off.

“Leave that,” said Arthur, “it’s threadbare.  You can wear something of mine.” 

Merlin looked at him in horror, “I can’t wear your clothes, the other servants will notice, they’re far too expensive for a manservant.”  Merlin’s eyes widened as another thought hit him.  “Uther will definitely notice.  He’ll probably think I’ve been secretly pinching your wardrobe and have me flogged.”

Arthur laughed, “I’ll tell him I gave you some things while I’m waiting for the seamstress to make you something befitting my servant.  If nothing else, Uther understands the importance of keeping up appearances.”

He began to rummage through the wardrobe, finally pulling out a blue shirt with a small “hmmm” of triumph.

Merlin shook his head, “Far too new, it has to at least be something old.”

Arthur frowned at him, but searched again…this time turning around with an old tunic in an olive green.

“The back seam is all ripped, remember?  You caught it on brambles when you were hunting that huge boar.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, "I thought you were meant to have sent it to be mended.”

Merlin looked shifty, “I might have just hung it up again, you never used to wear it much anyway.”

Arthur sighed, “Alright, THIS!  It’s old, it doesn’t seem to be ripped…”

“It was a present from your father,” said Merlin flatly, “I’m definitely not wearing THAT in front of him.”

“Oh yes,“ said Arthur looking pensively at the brown tunic, “I’d completely forgotten that.”

After three more attempts…

“It’d swamp me…”

”The embroidery on the cuffs is too fancy…”

“It’s got _lace_ …”

Arthur threw yet another tunic onto the mounting pile on the floor, and exploded, “Oh by the Gods!  Choose something yourself before you freeze.”

Merlin sniffed happily, and moved past him.  He quickly found an old hunting shirt in faded Pendragon red that should have been thrown away ages ago, but he’d thought it might be useful for cutting up into cleaning cloths when he had the time.  Thinking back to their own world, he had a strong suspicion that it might still be hanging up there waiting for him to get around to it.  And to go with it a worn pair of brown trousers.

“You could have put these back as you went,” he said, scowling at the pile of clothes on the floor.

Arthur’s aim was true and Merlin’s balled-up trousers flew across the room to thwack him soundly on the back of the head. 


	17. Chapter 17

On their way out of the castle, Arthur insisted on stopping off at the kitchens to pick up something to eat while they walked, though Merlin was sure he must still be fairly full from last nights’ feast. 

“I can…eat a lot, Merlin.  Now, what would you like?”

They almost walked into Gwen coming out of the kitchen bearing Morgana’s breakfast tray.

She ducked a curtsey and Merlin hastily grabbed the small vase of wildflowers before it could topple onto the floor.

“Thank you, Merlin,” then, gazing at Arthur in open adoration, “It’s so wonderful to see you back.”

Arthur had a steady colour rising like a red rash from the neck of his shirt.  “Thank you…Gwen.  I’m…glad…to be back.”

“Merlin’s been… he’s been bereft without you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, he wouldn’t have been ‘bereft’.  Well… alright, yes, maybe he would have, but she didn’t need to tell him that.

She jiggled the tray and Merlin caught and righted the vase again, “I need to take this to Lady Morgana.”

“Of course.” Arthur stepped out of her way and she almost ran off up the corridor.

They set off again once they had acquired far more provisions than anyone could reasonably want for a brisk walk up a hill.  And really, why had Arthur had insisted on quince tarts?  He hated them.  Merlin loved them of course, so he wasn’t going to complain, but the search to find them at the back of the pantry had held them up.  Merlin chalked it up as one of the odd, random whims that came over Arthur now and again, one of the trials of being royalty he supposed.

They exited the castle and began the walk up the hill,

“She’d actually completely slipped my mind.  How terrible is that. I was _married_ to her.”

Merlin’s response was a tad indistinct, given that his mouth was stuffed full with quince tart.  “In this world you don’t seem to have made any…approaches…to her as yet.”

“She’s lovely.”

Merlin nodded, since it was totally true, she had been the perfect Queen; she was strong, and kind, and resolute, and…how horrendously bad did it make him, that he didn’t want Arthur to marry her?  He was being so selfish, and he knew it.  He needed to step back, and let Arthur have his destiny.

“But..." continued Arthur thoughtfully, more talking to himself aloud than to Merlin, "It wasn’t right.  And, as time went on, we both knew it.  She'd fallen in love with the whole dream of being married to me, rather than me.  Once married we were more like brother and sister than anything more.  She came to love Lancelot in a way that she'd never really loved me.  ...and I…well…my heart was always elsewhere, I just didn't realise it.” 


	18. Chapter 18

“It’s a bleak place for a grave,” said Arthur looking around him.

“Once this is all over we can have the bones quietly moved somewhere, and buried properly.”

“No,” said Arthur, after a moment, “it looks down over Camelot, and…there’s a certain sort of barren beauty about it.  Perhaps we can just fill in the well and leave him…me…to sleep undisturbed.”

Merlin led the way to the hidden well and Arthur watched as he pushed back the gorse bush to uncover it.  Normally Arthur might have pitched in to help, but he just stood aside...withdrawn into himself.

Merlin wiped the last of the snow clear from the cover.  He looked up at Arthur when he was done.

It was almost like looking at a stranger.  Arthur’s expression was close and shuttered.  He nodded once.

Merlin heaved aside the iron lid, fighting, for Arthur’s sake, not to retch at the smell.

For a long moment Arthur stood, with his arms crossed across his chest, and didn’t move.  Then his jawline seemed to set and he walked forward. 

He’d obviously intended to stand back and just peer into the pit, but, such was its depth, there was no way to see anything that way.  Arthur was forced to go down on his knees in the snow and brace his hands on either side of the well so that he could peer down.

He hung over the well.  Merlin could almost see the moment at which he made sense of the shadowy shapes down there in the darkness; it was there in the way that Arthur’s whole body seemed to tense, before he raised his face with something haunted and sad in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Arthur exhaled sharply, and sat back, looking as pale as Merlin had ever seen him, even after Mordred’s blade was in his body.  Then he leaned forward again and stared down into the pit for a long time, like someone obsessed by what he was seeing and unable to break away. 

Merlin wanted to pull him back and hold him, but now wasn’t the time.  He could sense that Arthur needed distance; a space to come to terms with his own mortality and having it so viscerally exposed to him.

“Well,” said Arthur, after a long moment, “Morgana achieved it then.  She killed me.”

“But not again,” said Merlin hotly, “Now I’ll kill her.”

Arthur looked at him in a quiet, sad way that Merlin didn’t know quite how to interpret.

“ _We’ll_ kill her,” amended Merlin, “surely now you see we have to?”

“And what then?“ said Arthur, “Morgause kills you?...Gaius poisons her?…Mordred stabs him?…and on…and on…in an endless cycle.”

“No,“ said Merlin urgently, “we are going to break the chain, snap out of it completely.  That cycle might exist on many worlds, but we KNOW it exists, and that gives us the power to step outside it.”

“I don’t want to kill her.”

Merlin looked at him desperately, “But she…you KNOW what she’s done.  Arthur.”

“I don’t want her to die.”  Arthur looked down into the well, “This is enough. I want it to end.”

 Merlin looked at him in despair.  “Arthur, until we stop her, permanently, this cycle will never end.”

Arthur looked stubbornly at the ground, “I don’t want to kill her.”

Merlin rubbed his hand roughly across his face, feeling more weary than he ever had.  “Fine!  We don’t kill her.”   

Arthur wandered silently away from the well and left Merlin to re-cover it.  As before, Merlin whispered his quiet goodbye to the dead Arthur.   He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t leave him thinking that he was forgotten…not that the dead Arthur was thinking much of anything now, thought Merlin with grim realism.

But, come to that, thought Merlin in frustration, the living Arthur didn’t seem to be thinking any too clearly either.  Surely he must see that Morgana’s death was a necessary evil.  Merlin _had_ killed her with Arthur’s sword in their world and Arthur hadn’t even shed a tear for her.  Though, being sure he was dying himself, he supposed it had left Arthur with little time for sympathy for her.

Merlin was sure he was right; leaving Morgana alive just meant that she would be a focus for endless plots against Arthur, she was like a lodestone for malevolence.

But where did that leave him.  If he couldn’t change Arthur’s mind, then should he go along with a judgment he knew would bring doom on them.  Or should he quietly go his own way, defy Arthur, and murder her himself.

Which, thought Merlin, with a hollow sadness stealing over him, would lead to them starting their new life here with yet another huge secret hanging between them that could be exposed to destroy Arthur’s faith in him.  He couldn’t bear to go back to that again.  They’d just reached this new openness about his magic.

But, he couldn’t let Arthur’s misjudgment cause his death…

He was pleased when Arthur’s voice cut through his thoughts.  “When you came up here, where did you go?”

Merlin rose to his feet.  “Well, not over there.  Why?  Have you found something?”

Arthur gave him a strange look.  “Footprints.”

“They’re probably Gwen’s, I told you, she came up here looking for me.”

“I think I can track well enough to tell her footprints from yours.”

Merlin frowned, “I didn’t go over there…” and then, as realization hit, “…Ohhhh.”

He joined Arthur over at the hawthorn trees and looked at the marks in the snow.  He had to privately admit they meant nothing to him, he wouldn’t have even been sure they were footprints, let alone his own.

Arthur seemed confident enough though and set off following them through the scrubby vegetation.

After a few minutes Arthur stopped so suddenly in front of him that Merlin walked into him.   Merlin reeled backwards, rubbing his nose.  Normally either Merlin or Arthur would have made some sharp comment at that, but Merlin wasn’t in the mood and he guessed Arthur wasn’t either.

Merlin took a side-step so that he could move up to stand at Arthur’s side, but to his surprise, Arthur also took a hasty side-step to block his progress.  Merlin huffed something rude at Arthur’s back, and took a side-step the other way, Arthur blocked him again.

“Don’t be a prat, Arthur.”

Arthur spun around and one hand snaked out to tightly grip Merlin’s upper arm.  “Go back to the well, I’ll deal with this.”

“Deal with what?”  Merlin twisted out of his grip and rose up on tip-toe, then ducked and feinted to one side.  As Arthur swore and tried to grab him he weaved the other way and ducked under Arthur’s arm to get past him. 

Arthur’s hand, that had been outstretched to grab him, fell back uselessly to his side, it was too late now.

“Ohhh…”

Merlin rarely had a chance to see himself in a mirror, he had certainly never had a chance to see his whole body reflected in one.  But this was no mirror, Merlin tilted his head, trying to understand it, and was barely aware of Arthur hovering at his shoulder seeming to want to touch him and yet holding himself back.

“It’s me.”  Merlin walked forward wonderingly, looking down at the…he was thinking ‘body’…but it wasn’t really a body was it?  It was…himself.

He was dead.  That much was obvious.  And how did it work that he could be standing here with his heart pumping…and he could feel it thumping so loud that he could hear it in his ears and it made everything else around him sound faint and far away.

And yet he could be there…and…dead…and, did he really look that gaunt…?  And look, frost had formed on the eyelids and across the…his…lips… 

And my! There was such a lot of blood. 


	19. Chapter 19

Someone was tapping his cheek, not too hard, but insistent. Merlin frowned and flicked a hand to bat the annoying person away.

“I know you’re awake now, Merlin.”

“Wha..?”  Merlin realised he was lying on his back. He opened his eyes and was immediately dazzled by a blast of white sky, he screwed his eyelids hastily shut.

Footsteps were crunching away from him across the snow and his curiosity was piqued. He turned on one side and squinted across the ground. He could see Arthur’s boots, and beyond them, his own body, lying on its side in the snow, almost mirroring his own. It was so strange to look across at himself, the flesh was almost blue in its paleness and the body looked so still, like one of those figures carved from stone to put on tombs. It looked as though he could be asleep, but he suspected that real sleep involved a lot more sprawled limbs and open-mouthed snoring.

Arthur looked back at him, “On your feet, Merlin, you’ll freeze down there.”

He got up and joined Arthur by the body, being careful to avoid standing on the large patch of red ice that spread out from the front of it.

One of the hands was laying palm upwards, the long fingers loosely curled. A hunting knife, the blade so coated in blood that almost no steel was visible, had obviously fallen from it as he died, and was lying nearby. “Well at least I went down fighting.”

Arthur hunkered down next to the body. “No, I don’t think you did.”

“What do you mean?”

Arthur reached to touch the body and hesitated.

Merlin couldn’t blame him, it was a gory sight and he wouldn't really fancy touching it himself. But when Arthur did continue his movement and take hold of the other hand of the body, it wasn’t with disgust, but something close to tenderness.

Arthur pulled the arm forwards slightly and pushed up the sleeve. The brown jacket was crunchy with blood that had turned to red ice. It moved reluctantly and he had to exert some force. Suddenly the material crumpled up, the ice flaking away like a shower of rose petals.

Merlin gagged, the forearm that was exposed was a mass of deep jagged cuts, here and there he could see the rich sour-milk yellow of exposed tendons, and even…just there… the white flash of bone.

His voice came out as an embarrassing squeak, “I killed myself?”

Arthur was holding himself as tightly as a drawn bowstring, but his voice was firm and matter-of-fact. Only Merlin, who knew it almost better than he knew his own, could have detected the slight quaver in it. “I don’t think so, there are the remains of a fire there,” he nodded at a faint circle of grey off to one side, virtually hidden under a layer of frost; Merlin hadn’t even noticed it. “Why bother going to the trouble of making a fire, especially without magic, if you are going to slash your wrist.”

He paused, looking intently at the ground around them, “No, I think…”

Merlin tried to follow his gaze, but wasn’t sure what he was meant to be looking for.

Suddenly Arthur gave a small cry of triumph. “There!”

“What?”

Arthur shifted over a little bit so that Merlin could see, and brushed the silvery frost away from something on the ground.

Merlin peered at it; it seemed to be a small round black pebble. But as the frost was wiped away he saw that it was a dead beetle.

“I think you‘d discovered my body and had decided to try getting this out of your arm.”

Merlin suddenly understood, “Revenge.”

Arthur looked at him oddly. “Perhaps.”

"Maybe I just fainted from loss of blood, and then the cold finished me off. Hecate said there couldn’t be two versions of us in the same world, it probably happened just before we arrived.”  For once, Merlin seemed the brutal one, and Arthur seemed to shudder.

“Give me your knife.”

“What?” Arthur’s eyes looked slightly wild.

“Lend me your knife and I’ll get it out.”

Arthur’s gaze flew wildly between the living Merlin and Merlin's corpse and the wreck of its arm. “No!”

Merlin huffed impatiently. “Oh, I’ll be fine. And you’re there to wake me up or keep me warm if I faint.”

“No!”

“But…”

“No!..and look…” Arthur gestured at the beetle. “See?”

Merlin looked but couldn’t see anything, just a little teeny-tiny white trail leading to a small black beetle. “What?”

“It crawled across the blood here…but there are no blood marks where it’s been.”

“So?”

Arthur looked a tad exasperated, as though he was explaining things to an idiot. “SO! The beetle didn’t crawl across wet blood. You were already dead and your blood had turned to ice before it came out.”

“Oh.” Yes, that did make sense. “So I have to die before it will come out?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But that’s the gist?”

Arthur rose to his feet and stalked across the glade, “Maybe.” He hissed out a loud sigh, “I don’t know. We’ll go and see the dragon and see what it says.”


	20. Chapter 20

“We’ll have to move…me,” said Merlin looking at the corpse.  “If someone stumbles across it and news gets back to Uther that there are two of me then I don’t value my chances of escaping a pyre.”

“We can’t bury it,” Arthur’s boot tapped the earth with a quiet thud, “the ground is like iron up here.”

They were silent for a moment, a breeze whispered through the hawthorns making the brittle twigs rattle together like bones.

Merlin spoke, “We’ll put it down the well.”

Arthur gave him a startled look.  “We can’t.”

Merlin shrugged helplessly, “It’s all we can do.  And although I don’t like to give credit to Muirden for anything, he does know how to pick a hiding place.”

“It seems so…disrespectful.”

Merlin nodded at the body, “Well, if anyone knows what he’d think about it, then it would be me.  And I think he’d agree it was the only way.”

Between them they carried the body to the well.  Once there they laid it gently on the ground and worked together to move the iron lid aside. 

“This feels so wrong,” said Arthur quietly.

“It’s not so bad.  And they’ll be together down there.”

Arthur suddenly shook his head and walked away.  He stood on the far side of the hill, facing away from Merlin and looking out over the countryside.  He looked almost boyish, with the wind ruffling his blond hair, and very alone.  Merlin watched Arthur’s back for a moment, and then turned to the body and manhandled it into the pit.  It landed at the bottom with a heavy thud. 

After a few moments Arthur walked slowly back, and joined him looking down into the well.  Merlin’s body had landed face down, and half across Arthur’s.  It almost looked as though it was hugging him protectively.  Someday, thought Merlin, they would just be a jumbled pile of bones, mingled with each other for eternity.  It wasn’t such a bad place to end up.

They re-covered the well and returned to the glade to hide the bloodstain there under a layer of snow.

“We’d better get back to the castle, my father will be up and about by now, and he wanted me to join him for the midday meal.”

“I’m going to see if Muirden’s out.  I want to get my magic book, I don’t want him to get his hands on it.”

“I can’t believe you were living in Camelot with a magic book under your floorboards,” said Arthur, rolling his eyes.  “I’d say be careful, but I don’t think you know the meaning of the words.”

Merlin grinned.

**************

 

Luck wasn’t with him, he’d only taken a few steps into the Physician’s quarters when he heard Muirden’s voice behind him.

“Your prince throw you out?”

Merlin spun round to see Muirden in the doorway with his staff in one hand and a basket of medicine vials in the other.  He must deliver his cures earlier in the day than Gaius used to and had arrived back. He used the staff to shove the door shut behind him and then walked forward to put the basket on the table.

Merlin backed away, well aware of how quickly Muirden was able to lash out with the staff.  “He’s with the King.”

“Really?”  Muirden advanced on him slowly, his voice was low and quiet.  “I would have thought he’d want to avoid spending too long with anyone who knew him.”

“Why?”

“Don’t play games with me, we both know that can’t be Arthur.  And yet, you seem to be happy to help him to take his place.  Which leads me to wonder why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, of course it’s Arthur.”  Merlin was trying to slowly edge round the table so that he could reach the door.

Muirden smiled and whipped the staff up to catch Merlin across his right forearm.

Merlin yelped and retreated further back into the room, his whole arm throbbing.

“No running off, until I get some answers.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Muirden lashed out with the staff again, but this time Merlin managed to dart sideways and it just whacked noisily onto the floorboards.

“Is it a spell?  Some sorcerer in disguise?”

Muirden swung the staff again.  Merlin took a hasty step back, but his legs hit one of the low fireside stools and he tripped backwards over it to land heavily on his back on the floor.  Before he could recover Muirden brought the end of the staff brutally down into his stomach, making him double up gasping for breath.

Muirden raised the staff over his head, and this time Merlin knew that when it fell it would break bones.

It never fell, a tanned hand reached out from behind him and grabbed the staff, wrenching it away from him. 

“Lancelot!”  Although he’d known things were different here, it still shook him to see his friend alive again, the room blurred and he felt his eyes burn with tears.

Lancelot threw Merlin a quick smile before moving to stand protectively in front of him as he got shakily to his feet. 

“I have never been so pleased to see you,” said Merlin.

“It seems as though I chose just the right time to return to Camelot and visit my friend.”

“You’d do well not to interfere, “ hissed Muirden, “Merlin is the Physician’s servant as well as the Prince’s and I can discipline him as I see fit.”

“Not by beating him to death.”

Merlin grabbed Lancelot’s arm, squeezing it affectionately.  “Come on, leave him, let’s go.”

Lancelot threw the staff at Muirden’s feet and he had to dance backwards to avoid it breaking his toes.  “If you ever touch him again you will have me to answer to.”

Muirden scowled at him but said nothing as they left.


	21. Chapter 21

“I really don’t think I should be in here.”

“Nonsense,’ said Merlin ushering Lancelot into Arthur’s room, “when Arthur comes back from seeing his father he’ll be overjoyed to see you.”

Lancelot looked at him oddly. “I doubt he’ll much remember me.”

“Of course he…” Merlin paused.  On this world, Lancelot wasn’t yet one of the knights.  Merlin closed the door behind them.  “Come and sit at the table, I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

When Merlin began his story, Lancelot listened with a quiet intensity.  As he always had, he trusted and believed Merlin immediately, no matter how outrageous his words seemed. 

He wasn’t sure whether to tell Lancelot about himself and Gwen, but decided in the end that it was better to be open. 

“Arthur must hate me.”

“You and Gwen loved each other, Arthur understands that.  And…things are different now.”  Merlin hadn’t yet mentioned the part where he and Arthur had…  he wasn’t sure how to discuss that, or even if he should.  Perhaps Arthur wouldn’t want anyone to know.

“It’s such a huge idea to come to terms with,” said Lancelot wonderingly, “that there are so many other worlds with us in them, all living slightly different lives.”  There was no hint of disbelief in his voice.  If Merlin said it, then it must be true.

Lancelot wore a simple white shirt with open laces at the neck, and the winter sun shone through the window behind him making it seem to almost glow.  That, joined with the gentle intelligence of his brown eyes, made him look almost holy, like some wise druid.

Merlin felt his heart swell with affection for him.  For a moment it was hard to believe that he was really sitting there, and not some sort of mirage.  He impetuously reached across the table and gripped Lancelot’s hand, it was warm and real.  Lancelot seemed to understand what Merlin was feeling and squeezed his fingers reassuringly in return.

It was at that moment that the door opened.  Merlin turned, half pulling his hand from Lancelot’s, to see Arthur in the doorway.

Arthur’s face lit up at seeing Lancelot, then his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at their entwined fingers. 

“Isn’t it great!  Lancelot’s here.  He protected me from Muirden,” said Merlin brightly.  “I’ve been telling him everything that’s happened.”

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Lancelot,” said Arthur closing the door behind him and crossing the room.

Lancelot had risen hastily to his feet and circled the table to meet Arthur with proper respect.  He held himself with wary politeness and seemed surprised and delighted when Arthur pulled him into a firm hug.

“You were the best of my knights, Lancelot.” said Arthur, releasing him and gesturing for him to resume his seat, “and if I can persuade you to stay in Camelot then I hope you will be again.”

“The king will only allow nobles into the knighthood, and I am afraid I am as base born on this world as I was on yours.”

Merlin expected Arthur to immediately take the other vacant seat, but instead he moved to stand directly behind Merlin’s chair.  He felt Arthur’s body pressing gently against his back and his loose red shirt ruffling the back of his hair.  Arthur’s hands came down with warm solidity on his shoulders.

“Nobility is something you earn by your actions, Lancelot, not something you are born with.  And believe me, you are one of the noblest men I know.”

And now one of Arthur’s hands began absent-mindedly rubbing up the side of Merlin’s neck.  Merlin jerked with surprise.  It was very pleasant but wildly inappropriate and Merlin wondered what on earth he was doing.

He looked at Lancelot who gave him just the merest twitch of an amused smile.

Merlin suddenly understood.  Arthur was staking his claim and making sure that Lancelot knew it.  Merlin didn’t know whether to be amused, outraged or ridiculously flattered, he ended up a jumbled combination of all three.  

He reached upwards and clasped the hand that wasn’t wandering over his neck and gave it a loving squeeze.  Arthur finally seemed ready to sit down.

“I’ve been talking to my father about letting anyone worthy into the knights, I was hoping to be able to find Gwaine and Elyan and Percival, and start getting things back to how they were. But I can’t get him to see reason.”

In the past Arthur would never have stood for any criticism of Uther, but Merlin supposed that he’d had long enough without his father’s influence to see that Uther was not the paragon he used to try to pretend he was.

Lancelot listened with an expression of stunned hopefulness, and Merlin could already see the beginnings of hero worship in his face.  And this time Gwen wouldn’t be an obstacle between them.  Arthur was already making that very clear.

“I’ve been telling Arthur that we need to kill Morgana.”

Lancelot looked uncomfortable, “Even after all she’s done, to kill a woman…”

“Not you as well!  She’s bent on killing Arthur.  As soon as Uther publicly acknowledges her as his heir she’ll murder him as well and take the throne.”

“And what do you suggest?” said Arthur grimly, “Just walking up to her and saying ‘good morning, sister’ before running her through?”

“If necessary.” Said Merlin, “Her power will be growing now she’s aware of her magic and Muirden is coaching her.  If we leave it too long we won’t be _able_ to kill her without using Excalibur, and I don’t think that exists on this world yet.”

“Excalibur?” said Lancelot quizzically.

“My sword,’ said Arthur, “Merlin forged it in the breath of a dragon.”

“Ah.” said Lancelot simply as though that explained everything.

“Though,” said Arthur looking sternly at Merlin, “I don’t know why you didn’t just give it to me instead of going through that whole charade with the stone.”

“Being a king isn’t just about making good decisions, it’s also something magical…men have to follow you because they think you’re the only possible right choice…it has a…mythical aspect to it.”  Merlin ran out of steam and finished lamely, “I was helping to build your myth.”

Arthur looked startled.  “You’re really getting good at this ‘wise advisor’ thing.”

Lancelot went to clap Merlin on the shoulder, then looked at Arthur uncertainly and seemed to change his mind about touching him.  “Merlin has always been wiser than his years.  He just needs someone wise enough themselves to listen to his counsel.”

They continued talking for a while longer, and then Lancelot took his leave of them to go back to the Rising Sun where he’d taken a room.

“It’s good to have him back,” said Merlin, closing the door after him.

“Indeed it is,” Arthur’s voice was so close behind him that it made Merlin jump.  He turned to find Arthur crowding him against the door.  “I just wish he didn’t look so bloody handsome.”

Merlin chuckled and ran a hand through Arthur’s hair, “I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about.”

Arthur gave a low growl deep in his throat and shook off Merlin’s hand impatiently, he dived forward to bury his face in Merlin’s neck and clamp his teeth on the hot skin there.  Merlin gasped.  “Oh!  You are very…territorial.”

Arthur sucked a bruise into the skin.  Merlin groaned happily.  If it wasn’t for the fact that Arthur’s hands were gripping his upper arms he thought his knees would have given way and let him slither bonelessly down the door.  He tilted his head to one side to give Arthur more access to his neck.

Arthur seemed to pull himself back with difficulty, his pupils were huge and dark. “Get on the bed.”

Merlin’s breath hitched, Arthur looked glorious and wild.  Merlin grabbed one of his hands and drew him across the room with him.  He sat on the edge looking up at Arthur.  “Do you want me to undress?”

Arthur gazed at him hungrily.  “Yes.”

Merlin slipped out of his clothes.  Arthur made no effort to move, just stared at him, watching every movement intently.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Merlin’s tongue flicked out to moisten his lips.  He moved into the centre of the bed and did as Arthur asked, watching as Arthur retrieved the bath oil they’d used last night from the bedside table.

Arthur climbed onto the bed behind him, one hand feeling down the bumps of Merlin’s spine until it reached his buttocks and kneaded them almost harshly.

“Aren’t you going to undress?”

Arthur loosened his trousers and pulled them down his thighs.  “No.  Do you mind?”

Merlin gave a gasp as he felt the cool oil spill down across his entrance and trickle down the back of his thighs.  “No, I don’t mind.”

Arthur’s finger was breaching him, he was still loose from the previous night and it was easier to open him than it had been.  It still burned though, and Arthur held back, cautiously adding another finger.

He felt vulnerable in his nakedness, with Arthur behind him clothed and in control.  It made his muscles shiver in anticipation.   Arthur seemed to sense what he was feeling and reached his free hand round to stroke him hard.

Merlin felt the blunt press of Arthur against him, pushing inexorably inside until he was fully sheathed.  Arthur’s body was tight against his back now, one arm propping himself up and the other wound tightly around Merlin’s chest, holding him immobile.  He could feel the soft fabric of Arthur’s shirt against his back, and Arthur’s trousers rubbing against the bottom of his thighs.

Merlin shoved impatiently back against him, and it was all the permission Arthur needed to start moving.  He rode him roughly and Merlin gave himself willingly up to the sensation of it, to the feeling of being possessed and taken.

Merlin moved to touch himself and Arthur pushed his hand back onto the bed.  “I’ll do it.”

He took Merlin in hand and stroked him in rhythm with his hard thrusts.  The world condensed into Arthur, Arthur in him, and around him and on top of him.  Arthur bit down on Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin arched upwards into it, urging him on.

Arthur came first, and as Merlin felt the warmth blossoming inside him he came himself, jetting out over Arthur’s fingers and onto the red coverlet.

They collapsed together in a sated tumble of limbs.

“I shall have to make you jealous more often.”

“I don’t get jealous,” said Arthur with a hint of arrogance, and then continued more uncertainly, “I don’t need to.  …do I?”

“Never,“ breathed Merlin contentedly, pushing forward to kiss Arthur on the nose, “I’m yours until the day I die.”


	22. Chapter 22

They descended the roughhewn stairs and passed through the archway to stand together on the stone ledge.  The cavern billowed out in front of them like a huge, dark sail, to be lost in rocky darkness in every direction.  The flickering light from their torches made no real impact.  It was like standing on the edge of a starless, night sky.

“Is he here?” Arthur’s voice came out in a whisper, the same involuntary urge to be quiet that one gets when standing in a temple.

“I can’t tell.”  Merlin raised his voice and called, “Kilgharrah!”

His voice echoed back to them, and for a moment he thought the cave must be empty, then there was the harsh rattle of huge chains, thick as a man’s waist, and the flapping of gigantic wings.  The breeze from the wings blew back their clothes and hair as the dragon landed heavily on the rocky outcrop directly opposite the ledge.  The creak of his leather wings folding and the scrabbling of his metallic talons on the stone was deafening.

“Warlock!  I have been calling you for days, and heard no answer.  I do not like to be ignored.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you call.  Something’s been done to me…I can’t use my magic.”

Kilgharrah suddenly let out a furious belch of fire that made them both duck backwards, “You brought HIM!  The Pendragon whelp.”

Merlin could feel Arthur stiffening beside him, ready with a sharp retort; the last thing they needed was the dragon more angry and perhaps refusing to talk to them. 

“Yes,” said Merlin hastily, “but he’s different, we both are.”

“Different enough to set me free?”

“He did that once,” said Arthur, “and you turned straight around and attacked the castle.”

The dragon let out a low, rumbling chuckle, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I like the sound of it.”

“Pah!” said Arthur. “He’ll never help us.”

“I did not say that.”  Kilgharrah’s nose wrinkled and he sniffed the air, “You reek of each other, are you mated?”

Arthur threw Merlin a look of outrage.

Merlin felt himself flush.  “As I said, things have changed.”

“I don’t _reek_.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows urgently and Arthur snapped his mouth shut.

The dragon smirked.

“Arthur knows about my magic.”

Kilgharrah’s golden eyes narrowed.  “And he doesn’t want to burn you alive?  My! My!  Things _have_ changed.”

“I’d never have…”  Under Kilgharrah’s ancient, cynical gaze, even Arthur’s bravado withered slightly.  “Well, perhaps at one time when I didn’t see things as clearly as I do now, but…”

“Don’t rise to it,” said Merlin.  “This is what he does.”

“I’m starting to see why he ended up down here in the first place,” muttered Arthur.

Kilgharrah bellowed and another gust of flame fell just short of them, the air turned furnace hot for a moment. “How dare you…”

“Stop it!  Both of you!” Snapped Merlin, and was rewarded by startled silence.  He continued hastily before either of them could fully comprehend that they’d just been ordered to shut up. “Kilgharrah, we need your help…”

Merlin gave Kilgharrah an account of what had happened to them up until this point. 

When he finished the dragon was silent for a long few minutes, eyes half-shut.

“Has it drifted off?” said Arthur snidely.

Merlin glared at him.  In a minute, King or not, he was going to cuff him round the ear.

To both their surprise the dragon chuckled again, “You’ve a definite touch of the dragon about you, young Pendragon.  Uther never had it, but you do.”  Then, continuing before Arthur had a chance to question him, “I did not like to hear you tell of your death, young warlock, we do not always see eye to eye, but I enjoy your presence.”

“Likewise,” said Merlin, feeling touched.  Perhaps this time the dragon might actually be helpful rather than just cryptic.  “Is there anything you can do with your magic to get this beetle out of me?”

“Muirden’s magic is dark, and alien to mine.  You said the other Merlin was dead before it came out.  Perhaps you should think about that.”

But no, here it was, riddles again!  Merlin huffed with frustration.  ”I don’t know of a way to kill myself and then bring myself back to life.”

“No, indeed,” said Kilgharrah, “I doubt that would be possible.”

“Let’s go,” said Merlin, turning away, “I should have known this would be a waste of time.”

Arthur grabbed his arm, “No…wait.”  He tilted his head and returned the dragon’s inscrutable stare.  “Only the _beetle_ has to think you’re dead. If we cut off the blood flow to your arm…a tight tourniquet…and make your arm very cold…put it in ice water…”

Kilgharrah gave a deep, rumbling growl of approval, “Finally a son of the dragon who seems to be worthy of the name.”

“So you were actually trying to help?” said Merlin.

Kilgharrah sniffed, “I always try to help…in my own way…”

“The prophesies,” said Merlin, “that Mordred is Arthur’s bane, and Arthur will die at Camlann.  Well, the Arthur that was here _has_ died at Camlann, just at the hill not the battle.  Does that negate that part of the prophesy?”

Kilgharrah wore an unfamiliar expression and it took a moment for Merlin to recognize it as confusion.   

“Yes, I think Camlann Hill will fulfil that part of the prophesy very well, Arthur will no longer be fated to die there if it has already happened.  But, as for Mordred being Arthur’s bane…I have never heard of that.  No, the other part of the prophecy is that Morgana is Merlin’s bane.  Morgana will send Merlin to his tomb.”   

Merlin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as though a cold breeze had blown across it.

“That can’t be right,” said Arthur, “on our world Merlin killed my sister, Emrys was Morgana’s bane.”

“Different world, different prophecies,” said Merlin, then he sighed and smiled slightly, “well as least I can stop worrying _quite_ so much about her or Mordred killing you.  At least you can make your own destiny here.”

“You must kill the witch,” said Kilgharrah.

“Some time in the last world, when everything fell apart, I realised you were right about that,” grinned Merlin, “and I have been saying that to him ever since.”

“And now I’m listening to you,” said Arthur quietly, “risking my own life is one thing, but I’ll be damned if I risk yours.”


	23. Chapter 23

Arthur was to dine with Uther that evening, but they judged that they should still have enough daylight beforehand to attempt to get Merlin’s magic back.

Soon they were on their horses and clattering across the courtyard.  Before they could reach the gate Leon had walked across the cobbles and intercepted them, hastily grabbing the reins of Merlin’s nag.  “Sire, would you like me to accompany you?”

Arthur drew up and Hengroen tossed his head restlessly before he could settle him.  Merlin’s mount was far more docile.  It had come to an immediate halt and seemed reluctant to shift again.  Merlin looked at her with a touch of exasperation, he liked calmness in a horse, but this one’s temperament had a definite touch of the cow about it.  He wondered if Arthur had chosen it on purpose just to be irritating.

Arthur paced Hengroen in small, tight circles to calm him.  “Thank you, Leon, but we’re just going for a quick ride before it’s too dark.”

“The King worries about you, Sire.  I think he’s afraid something will happen to you after your long absence.  Especially as you still can’t remember where you were for those months.  He’s…“  Leon seemed embarrassed, “…he’s asked me to accompany you if you leave the castle.”

“Really, Leon, I’ll be fine, and Merlin’s with me.”

Leon raised his eyebrows incredulously before quickly schooling his face to blankness.

For a moment Arthur looked as though he was going to say something sharp, but then glanced across at Merlin who shrugged slightly and smiled.  On this world they hadn’t been through what they had on their own; Leon had no reason to think of Merlin as more than a particularly unruly manservant.    

Arthur seemed to get himself under control, “No need for you to come, we’re only riding to the edge of the forest and back.”

“Sire, your father…”

“I told you, Sir Leon…”

“Arthur…” Merlin wasn’t sure whether the appalled look Leon was giving him was because he’d interrupted, or because he was just calling him ‘Arthur’.  Arthur merely raised his eyebrows waiting for Merlin to continue, “…if Lancelot is the noblest of your knights, then surely Leon is the most loyal?”

Arthur considered for a long few moments.  “Alright, Leon, mount up quickly and come with us.”

Once the three of them had cantered a fair way down the road outside the castle Arthur turned off to the right.  “There’s a stream just inside the forest along the track to Oldham,’ said Arthur, “it’s very slow running and should be almost frozen over, it’ll be ideal for dunking your arm into until it’s deathly cold.”

“Sounds wonderful,” said Merlin dryly.

Leon stared between them as though they were both insane.

“Leon,” began Arthur bracingly, “we have something to tell you…”

**************

 

“Right,“ said Leon, as they reached the stream and Arthur reached the end of his story, “I think I understand everything except that whole bit at the beginning with the chalice and the shadows.”

“Ha!”  Arthur looked at Merlin in triumph, “I told you it wasn’t just me!”

Merlin scowled at Arthur, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you explain it.  Ignore the chalice thing, Sir Leon, it really isn’t relevant.”

Merlin turned his attention to the stream, it did look dauntingly iced over, and cripplingly cold, he really didn’t feel like putting his arm in it.

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, “I have a good feeling about this, there are plenty of branches lying about to use as the twisting rod.”

“We mustn’t keep it on too long,” said Leon as they dismounted and tied up their horses, “I’ve seen it used in battles, and if you leave it on too long then the man can lose the use of the limb entirely.  It just goes completely dead.  The rest of his life Sir Owain ended up trying to do everything with his left hand.” Leon chuckled, “He never managed too well; he was always pretty clumsy even with his right…”

Merlin looked at him, alarmed, “How long is too long?”

Leon shifted uneasily, “I’m not sure.”

Arthur glared at Leon, “It’ll be fine!  Here, put your cloak down on the bank and Merlin can lie on it.  Now the tourniquet.  Merlin, we can use your neckerchief for that.”

“Just don’t get blood on it, it’s my favourite.”

“It’s a ratty hunk of…” Arthur noticed his wide-eyed look, caught himself, and put a gentling hand across Merlin’s heaving stomach, “I’ll try my best not to get blood on it.”

Merlin smiled weakly.

“Tourniquet on first,” said Arthur.  He bent down across Merlin and undid his neckerchief; Merlin saw Leon averting his head and politely trying to look away while Arthur kissed his cheek and whispered reassurance into his ear. 

Merlin was grateful for the privacy and tilted his head up to brush his lips across Arthur’s throat, feeling the harsh whisper of new stubble.  “Whatever happens, it’s alright.  Do what we have to.”

Arthur looked on the ground to find a short section of branch, and then tied the scarf to it; he wound the scarf around Merlin’s upper arm and tied the other end back to the branch.

“Are you ready?”

Merlin smiled fondly at him, “Do it.”

Leon came back as Arthur began twisting the fabric.  Leon’s hand was a strong and surprisingly comforting weight on Merlin's shoulder.

This wasn’t too bad, thought Merlin, he could do this.  And once his arm had gone numb he’d hardly even feel the blade, and then the icy stream would numb it more.  Yes, he could certainly do this.

The fabric started to bite into his arm as Arthur twisted the stick.  At first it didn’t really impact, but then…oh, this was surprisingly painful.  Arthur was leaning over him, he looked so concerned.  Merlin nodded reassuringly.

It was very hard to keep smiling now, there was a bone-deep ache throbbing up his arm.  It was just getting worse.  It was getting very hard to focus on any part of his body that wasn’t his burning, pulsating arm…

Oh gods, this wasn’t nice.

He heard Arthur, “We’re going to cut your arm now, give the beetle an exit.”

“Yes, do it.”

He hardly felt the cut.

But then…he felt that, his injured arm was being plunged into the ice stream.  Even through his numbed skin the cold was like knives.

He was trying to be silent, really he was, but he must have groaned as he felt Arthur’s hot breath at his ear.  “Hold on, just hold on, not long now…”

He must have moaned again, as Arthur let out a raw, wounded noise…

He tried to raise his hand from the icy water to caress him, but his whole arm was so dead that he couldn’t move it. 

Oh Gods!  This was really unbearable.  He didn’t know how something could be so numb and yet so vibrant with feeling. 

He’d seen those diagrams in Gaius’ books, those tiny red threads weaving through the arms.  Every one of his was on fire with a deep, burning pain.

He stared into Arthur’s eyes, tried desperately to smile…

Then heard Leon’s exultant voice.  “It’s out, Sire, it’s out!”

Arthur’s hot, relieved breathing was huffing into his neck.

Merlin felt his eyes rolling backwards into his head.  


	24. Chapter 24

“Merlin, you need to wake up NOW!  You can’t do this so close to the castle.”

“Sire, the smoke will be seen.”

“I _know_ that, Leon.”

“Can’t you…knock him out…more?”

“He’s already unconscious, Leon, how unconscious do you think someone gets.  We need him to come to.”

“Surely he can’t be doing this without trying.”

“Leon, over there!”

“I’m trying, but I can’t keep up, new ones keep starting.”

“Merlin, wake up!  We need you to stop this.”

Merlin listened, his brain still felt as though it was wrapped in sheep’s wool but he supposed he ought to open his eyes.  It really seemed a bit harsh that they were asking him to help with something when he’d just swum up from unconsciousness. Surely they could give him a little longer to recover.

He’d thought they were still by the stream, but they must have moved him, as he was lying on something wonderfully comfortable.  He’d never been on a bed like this; even Arthur’s bed wasn’t this warm and soft.  He’d only sleep a tiny bit longer… 

“Merlin, I just saw your eyelids flutter.  I swear, if you don’t open your eyes I’m going to stick you in the stocks for so long that you’ll spend the rest of your life walking around looking at your knees.”

Well if you were going to put it like that.

Merlin opened his eyes; the sky above him was the ripe gold of late afternoon edging into evening.  Patterns of smoke drifted across it in a way that was quite pretty.  That one looked like a rabbit; it even had a tail and everything.  And that one looked like a butterfly…actually…Merlin felt himself start to properly wake up…it didn’t look like smoke drifting into the rough shape of a butterfly at all, it looked like a proper butterfly…and the wings were slowly beating…

What the…?

Merlin turned his head to see that he was lying at a level with Arthur’s waist.  They were still in the glade by the edge of the frozen stream, so what on earth had Arthur found to rest him on that was this high.  Beyond Arthur he could see that Leon had removed his cloak and was using it to beat at something on the ground.

Merlin frowned and moved to sit up, only to discover that he wasn’t resting on anything at all, he was floating in the air a couple of feet above the ground.  As soon as he realised it he gave a yelp of surprise and immediately dropped like a stone.  He hit the icy ground hard on his arse and bounced once.

His abruptly became aware that his arm was beginning to rage pins and needles as the blood surged through it again.

“What’s happened?”

“Where do you want me to start?” said Arthur.  “When your whole body began glowing gold and drifted up into the air?  Or when you started shooting blue sparks from your body and setting the place on fire?  Or perhaps when you started sending magical smoke signals to the castle?”

Merlin looked around wildly, a dozen small fires were flickering, crisping along the bark of the tree branches and glittering in the small patches of grass that poked out of the snow.  Beside the stream a large clump of bulrushes that should have been far too caked in ice to catch fire, were nevertheless blazing merrily.  Each small fire was sending up a woodland creature made from smoke that gradually got bigger as it rose into the air.

“Sire?” said Leon desperately, he was fighting a losing battle to put out a bramble bush whose low arched branches were each blazing individually in a way that was almost pretty.

“I’m so sorry.” Merlin used the hand that wasn’t half paralysed to grab Arthur’s outstretched hand, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.  Hastily he focused on each fire, uttering a spell to douse them one by one. 

When the last of the flames were out Leon walked back to them, draping his singed cloak around his shoulders.  He was giving Merlin a wary, almost scared, look that Merlin had never been on the receiving end of before.  Merlin looked at Arthur unhappily.

“It’s still Merlin,” said Arthur mildly,” even his subconscious makes bloody rabbits and butterflies.”

Leon stared at Merlin, and Merlin wondered whether the knight would ever come to accept him; he’d been told for so long that magic was evil.  Perhaps it would never be accepted at Camelot, no matter what Arthur did when he came to power and how many decrees he made.

Leon made a harsh snorting noise through his nose, and Merlin couldn’t help flinching backwards.

But then the noise continued and he realised it was laughter.  Leon suddenly bent double, hands on his knees, laughing fit to burst.  After a moment Arthur started too, he had his hands braced on Leon’s shoulders as though their shared leaning together was the only thing keeping them on their feet.

“There was a _fawn_!” said Leon.

“I saw it,” choked Arthur, “did you see the wild boar piglet?”

“I did…it had little smoky spots on its flanks.”

Arthur was almost unintelligible at this point.  “The attention to detail was just…”

Merlin scowled, they would burst a blood vessel if they carried on this way, and it would jolly well serve them right.  “It wasn’t that funny.”

Leon and Arthur looked at him, suddenly serious.  They looked at each other and straightened up slowly.  Arthur took a deep breath, “Merlin, you are quite right, we are being very childish, and there are very serious issues at stake.”

Then Arthur sniggered, and the two of them were back to guffawing. 

After a while their hysteria couldn’t help but to get through to him, and Merlin began to grin despite himself.

It took a while for Arthur and Leon to calm down, and even after that the smallest reminder seemed to set them off again.

They rode back to the castle feeling more cheerful than they all had in a while.  Merlin had his magic back.  Arthur had two knights back in his confidence, what could possibly go wrong.    


	25. Chapter 25

Dinner was to be a small affair with just Arthur, Uther and Morgana around the table.  Arthur had suggested that Merlin skip attending him that evening and rest his arm, but Merlin didn’t want Arthur eating near Morgana unless he was close enough to check that she didn’t slip poison into his food.

Once the three of them were seated and the food served, Merlin took up his usual position behind Arthur’s chair holding the heavy, silver wine jug.  Although the cut was throbbing, the rest of his arm still felt a little numb and when he filled their goblets the first time he was relieved not to slop wine on the table.  Luckily Uther was in conversation with Arthur and didn’t seem to have noticed Merlin being any more clumsy than usual.  Morgana was watching him closely though, her green eyes narrowed.

Merlin realised the sleeve of his shirt had ridden up a little to show a small sliver of the white bandage beneath, he quickly tugged the sleeve down to hide it.

“I walked to the green in the lower town today,” said Morgana, “and visited the winter fair.  There are some lovely stalls there this year.”

“I must go down and have a look,“ said Uther, tucking into his chicken with enthusiasm, “It’s the Yule feast the day after tomorrow and I’ve been so caught up in your return, Arthur, that I haven’t bought either of you a gift.”

“Do you remember what you bought me last year, Arthur?” asked Morgana.

Arthur’s knife scraped across his plate.  “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Oh surely you must,” probed Morgana as she sipped her wine, “I thought your amnesia only applied to the three months that you were missing; you must surely remember last Yule.”

Merlin quietly circled the table to stand behind Morgana, ready to refill her goblet once she replaced it on the table.

To Morgana’s obvious disappointment Uther spoke up to help Arthur out.  “You remember, Arthur, it was that emerald necklace, Morgana wears it all the time.”

“Of course,” said Arthur tightly, “I remember now.  I shall have to get you something extra special this year.  Perhaps something else to go round your throat.”

From his position behind Morgana, Merlin threw Arthur a wide-eyed, warning glare and gave a tiny shake of his head.  Arthur’s lips quirked in a smile and he relaxed slightly.

“Did you see anything there that you liked, my dear?” Uther asked.

“There’s a stall selling some lovely silks,” said Morgana, “but you know what gift I really want.”

“It would seem unfair to withdraw it.”  Uther frowned. “While you were missing, Arthur, I started to despair of your return.  There was no heir, and as you know, the one thing essential to a kingdom is the stability of the monarchy.”

Arthur nodded. 

“I revealed to Morgana, that she is my daughter,” Uther looked at Arthur warily, waiting for his reaction.  “You don’t seem surprised.”

Arthur wasn’t surprised because he’d already learned this long ago on their own world, but he could hardly say that, “I think I’ve suspected it for some time, you have always treated Morgana with a father’s devotion, and there is a family resemblance…certainly when it comes to ruthlessness.”

Morgana scowled at him, but Uther laughed, obviously relieved that Arthur had taken it so well, “You’re right there, she’s got the Pendragon backbone.  Morgana asked, quite reasonably, that I declare her legitimate.  This would make her the second in line to the throne...until you marry and have a child yourself of course.”

Morgana put down her cup.  “And since the Yule feast is the next large gathering it would be an excellent place to make the announcement.”

Merlin stepped forward to fill Morgana’s goblet, but as he leaned forward she stopped him by gripping his bandaged forearm.  She smiled sweetly, “not too much for me, I have a touch of a headache.”

Her hold on him looked gentle but Merlin felt her long nails dig fiercely into his flesh, aiming for the wound she’d guessed was there.  He couldn’t stop himself gasping.

Arthur’s chair scraped on the flagstones as he angrily pushed himself back from the table, and Merlin gave him a look imploring him not to challenge her in front of Uther.

Uther glared at Merlin irritably, “What’s the matter with the boy?”

“I think he’s cut his arm,” said Morgana, looking at Arthur smugly as she pushed up Merlin’s sleeve, “look this bandage is all bloody.”

“Well he should bandage it better next time,” said Uther, “we don’t want to see it at the dinner table.”

“Perhaps Merlin should go and see the physician, I can call Galas to serve us,‘ said Arthur.

“Nonsense,” said Uther, “he should have had the sense to go before, now he can wait until we’ve finished.”

Merlin carefully refilled Uther’s silver goblet, his whole arm was quivering and he could feel the cut pulsing angrily.  He was glad the jug was only half full now and easier to manoeuvre.

“It’s so sweet the way Arthur looks after Merlin.  Though…” Morgana broke off as though reluctant to say more.

“What?” said Uther.

“I don’t like to say…”

“Well, perhaps you shouldn’t then,” snapped Arthur.

“But, you deserve to know,” continued Morgana smoothly, “it could bring the whole family into disrepute, and I know you wouldn’t want to dishonor _our_ father in any way.” 

Merlin could hear the relish with which she claimed Uther as her father. 

“Well?” said Uther, “What is it?”

“There are rumours flying round the castle that he’s bedding him.”

Merlin took a sharp intake of breath and looked at Arthur, but Arthur was staring at Morgana with a cold smile.  “What if I am?  I think I can take my pleasure where I choose.”

“If I banished every man in the castle who was bedding his servants then there’d be no-one left,”  laughed Uther.  “Well, perhaps Geoffrey, but I’m not even sure about him since that young, curly-haired lad started helping him in the library.”

“Oh, _that_ wasn’t the issue,” said Morgana, “I’m not completely naïve.”

“So?”

Merlin was so caught up in wondering what she was about to say next that he completely forgot he was meant to be serving.  Uther nodded at him impatiently to refill his goblet and Merlin hastily came forward.

He was holding his breath as he poured the wine, waiting for what lie she would try to spin against Arthur.

“The rumour is that through this bedding, or perhaps through some sort of enchantment, the boy has got a hold over Arthur and has him on a string.”

Merlin jerked and the lip of the jug caught the edge of Uther’s goblet.  The wine went spraying across the table in a wide red arc and the goblet itself clattered over onto its side and span off the tabletop to clang loudly onto the flagstones.

Uther swore and shoved his chair back, dancing back from the table to avoid the wine dripping where he had been sitting.  “This is too much!”

Merlin wasn’t sure if he was referring to Morgana’s rumour or Merlin’s clumsiness.

“I’m so sorry,” gasped Merlin, shoving the jug on the table and scrabbling on the floor to retrieve Uther’s goblet.

“This is outrageous,” snarled Arthur, “I’m no-one’s puppet, least of all Merlin’s.”

“Perception is everything, brother.”

Merlin returned the goblet to the table to find the full force of Uther’s glare on him.  “He seems an unlikely bedfellow, sorcery you say?”

“He who rules the king, rules the kingdom,” said Morgana.

“Sire, I would never…” stammered Merlin flushing.

“Of course he wouldn’t,” hissed Arthur, “I haven’t been enchanted, Father.”  

Uther hesitated, then his gaze caught on his goblet and he snatched it up.  Merlin winced as he noticed the deep dent in the side.  “Ygraine gave me this on our wedding day, the fool has ruined it.”

Merlin saw the glint of tears in Uther’s eyes and felt appalled by what he’d done.  Uther lashed out, backhanding Merlin across the face and sending him staggering into the table.

Arthur surged up and caught Uther’s wrist before he could strike him again.  “Father, please.  It was an accident.”  He took the goblet gently from Uther’s other hand.  “I can take this into the silversmith tomorrow, and have it repaired as good as new.”

“And the rumour of magic?” said Morgana.  “Can you fix that as easily?”

“It’s a lie and you know it.”

“I’m sure you’re right, you know how fond I’ve always been of Merlin, and yet…to be sure…” Morgana tapped a thoughtful fingernail against her teeth, “You could always put father’s mind completely to rest and quell the rumours.”

Uther looked at her with raised brows.

“Trial by fire or trial by water.”

Merlin felt all the blood drain from his face.

Arthur stepped around his father to grab Merlin’s arm and pull him behind him protectively.  “He’s not going through a trial,” snarled Arthur.

Uther looked between his two children thoughtfully.  “I don’t think that’s necessary yet, Morgana.  Though of course if there were any more suggestions that sorcery was taking place, then I think we might have to take steps to disprove it.  And I’m sure Merlin would be eager to prove his innocence.”

Merlin swallowed, he had no desire to prove his innocence by either plunging his arm in boiling water, walking across red-hot ploughshares, or being tied up and thrown in a river to see if he drowned.

“Perhaps we should retire for the night,“ said Uther, “feelings have been running high, and I know I’m ready for sleep.”

Once back in Arthur’s room Merlin stood unhappily by the bed while Arthur slammed the dented goblet on to the table and paced the floor. 

“I’m really sorry, Arthur.  She caught me by surprise; the jug slipped.”

“What?  Oh the goblet, don’t worry about it, I can get it repaired.”

Merlin walked over and picked it up to examine it.  There was a charming scene embossed around the bowl of hounds chasing a stag.  The hindquarters of the stag and the tree behind him were severely dented and there was a small rip in the silver caused by the stress of being bent. “It’ll be hard for a silversmith to repair this, but I can do it with magic tomorrow, I’ve gotten quite good at getting the dents out of your armour.  I’m pretty sure I can make it look perfect again.”

“Very well, at the moment I don’t want anything to make Uther angrier with you.”

 “Can he _get_ angrier with me?” joked Merlin, trying to lighten the mood.

Arthur stopped his pacing, “Oh yes, and we both know it.”  He took Merlin’s chin and gently turned his head.  “That’ll be a nice bruise tomorrow, if Gaius was here I’d call for something to put on it, but I wouldn’t trust Muirden not to poison the salve.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Damn Morgana and her talk of trials.  That woman is a demon.”

“I’ve never understood how the trials got accepted in the first place, if you float they cut your throat, if you drown you’re innocent.  Surely the whole point of a trial is that if you’re innocent you get out alive.”

“Well, strictly speaking you’re not ‘innocent’.  Could you use your magic to escape if it comes to it?”

“I don’t know, maybe…probably not.  If there are enough guards, I can’t knock them all back.  And I wouldn’t want to kill people who are just following orders; it wouldn’t be their fault and I’d have to hold back.”

Arthur winced, “Well, we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand, and caressed his fingers, Arthur looked up, startled by how tentative the gesture was.  “You do know I haven’t enchanted you, right?  I’d never…”

“Oh, you’ve enchanted me alright.”  Then, as Merlin flinched, Arthur grinned and added softly, “Just not with sorcery.” Arthur leaned forward to kiss him.

Merlin let out a delighted laugh, “So long as you stay enchanted.”

Just before their mouths met Arthur whispered...and he was now so close that his words were merely a heated breath between Merlin’s parted lips.

“Always.”


	26. Chapter 26

Arthur had been right, and the next morning Merlin had a large purpling bruise across his cheekbone.  He was just glad that Uther hadn’t caught him higher up, so at least he didn’t have to put up with a black or swollen eye.  He sat at the table and pulled the Uther’s goblet toward him, examining it in the daylight. 

Arthur came and sat opposite him.  “I’d like to watch how you do this, I haven’t had much chance to see your magic in action.”

Merlin felt a glow of pleasure at being able to show off to Arthur.  He hoped he could do this well, he felt a little bit childish at how much he wanted to impress.

He reached for his magic and felt it rise eagerly to his fingertips, prickling like static under the skin. 

Arthur was watching him intently, “Your eyes just went gold.”

Merlin murmured the spell to begin gently pulling the metal to where he wanted it.  It was delicate work and only bore a faint relation to the forceful magic that he used to push the dents from Arthur’s armour. 

He moved his fingertips gently across the surface of the silver, sending his magic out in their wake.  He had to focus on each tiny fraction of the embossed pattern, pulling the stag’s hindquarters gradually back into shape without also lifting the background quite as high.

Then the tree in the background needed coaxing into shape.  He thought Arthur might grow bored, but instead he was mesmerised by the whole process.

Lastly he spoke another spell to gently heat and smooth the edges of the tiny rip in the silver until he coaxed the rent shut and smooth as though it had never been.

“Wonderful,” breathed Arthur.  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “And for some reason I’m not quite sure about, it seems to have completely turned me on.”

Merlin grinned, “If you didn’t have to go to the winter fair this morning then I would totally take advantage of that.”

“Believe me, I’d rather stay here.” 

“Do you know what you’re going to get your father?”

“No idea, I’m hoping I’ll see something suitable while I’m there, I was thinking maybe a dagger.  I’ll call in on Lancelot too, and invite him to the feast tomorrow.  It’ll be good to having him in the same hall again.  It’ll be even better once I can make him a knight and have him sitting in his proper place.  Are you sure you won’t come with me?”

“If we want to poison Morgana and Muirden at the feast, then I need to get a bottle of Hemlock.”

“I hate the idea of killing her in front of our father.”

“I hate it too,” said Merlin, “you know I do.  But if we quietly poison her at another time then the blame will probably fall on Gwen.  This way, in the middle of a feast, with a hundred servants bustling about refilling plates and cups no-one will know how the poison reached her.”

“Poison’s a coward’s weapon,” said Arthur unhappily.

“If you could challenge her to a fair fight of some kind, then I know you would.  But personally at this point, I just want to see her die.  I poisoned her once before on our world, and then felt guilty about it ever after.  Now I just think how much better it would have been for everyone there if I’d succeeded.”

“You’ll take Leon with you to get the hemlock?”

“Yes, he’ll be knocking any time now.  But I’m hoping for us to sneak in while Muirden is out and never even have to see him, we can’t afford to have him guessing our plans.”

There was a knock on the door.  “That’ll be Leon,” said Merlin, “wish me luck.”

*****************

 

“Have you got it?” hissed Leon from his position keeping watch at the doorway.

“I can’t find it,” said Merlin, urgently searching through the small bottles on the shelf, “Muirden’s changed everything around.”

He crossed to the small wall cupboard where Gaius used to keep his salves and opened that to find another selection of bottles and powders that hadn’t been there previously.  He started going through them looking for the small bottle with a skull and crossbones carefully drawn on the label. 

“Merlin, he’s coming.”

Ah!  There it was.  Merlin grabbed the bottle and tucked it into the small bag at his belt.

“Sir Leon, what are you doing here, are you ill?”

Merlin willed Leon to come up with some sort of lie, but deception had never been Leon’s forte and he stood there at a loss.

“Leon hurt himself in training, I was getting him some liniment, but couldn’t find it.”

Muirden stalked into the room, and picked up a bottle sitting in plain sight on the table.  “This?”

Merlin winced.  Apparently Leon wasn’t the only one who was a terrible liar.  “Ah yes, I missed that completely.  Thank you.”

“Why are you really here?  What are you looking for?”

“I told you…”

Muirden’s advance towards Merlin was stopped by Leon’s blade falling down in front of him. 

“You’ve got a protector,” smiled Muirden.  “No matter.”  Muirden uttered a spell as he flicked his hand and a burst of power sent Leon crashing across the room and into a table, the bottles on the table went crashing to the floor to shatter in a mass of broken glass around him.

Leon sprawled on the floor, dazed.

“Leave him alone.”  Merlin raised his hand and pushed a burst of power at Muirden that caught him in the centre of the chest and sent him flying backwards into the wall. 

Muirden recovered quickly, shooting a ball of fire that Merlin narrowly avoided, but which put him off balance and left him open to the next blast of power that Muirden sent at him.  It caught Merlin in the stomach like being kicked by a horse and he flew backwards to land on the floor gasping for breath.

Muirden’s fireball had set light to several bunches of herbs that were hanging from the ceiling to dry.  The fire was quickly spreading from one bunch to the next, and as they blazed, the leaves and stems began flaking off like fiery rain onto the room below.  The raw tang of burning bay and lavender filled the air.

“I see Morgana was right and you managed to get the beetle out.  I’d love to know how you did it, but I’m afraid you won’t live long enough to tell me.”

“Uther may not care too much about me, but what’s he going to say if you murder one of his knights?” said Merlin, pushing back to his feet.

“Oh, I won’t have done it.  You will.  I’ll say I caught you stealing poison…”  Muirden caught his expression, “Oh, that _is_ what you wanted, well you’re more ruthless than I gave you credit for.  Sir Leon heard me trying to protect myself, and rushed in.  Unfortunately he was no match for your foul sorcery.”

“Arthur will kill you.”

“Oh, I’ll get Morgana to slip him some poison.  They’ll find him dead in his room and that’ll be the final proof, you were obviously out to bring down the Pendragon family in revenge for the purge, and Arthur was just the first of your victims, no doubt Morgana or Uther would have been next.”

Merlin circled to one side, trying to keep Muirden talking, he could see Leon had risen to his feet and wanted to give him a chance to hit Muirden from behind.

Glass crunched under Leon’s boots and Muirden whirled, sending a blast of fire in his direction.  Leon ducked to one side and it narrowly missed him, just singing the ends of his hair.  The blast roared past to knock a large square box from the table.  The box flew open as it hit the floor and black beetles came rattling out.

Muirden grinned and said the spell to bring them to life.  Small legs immediately began wriggling and they began righting themselves and crawling towards the nearest living creatures. 

Leon yelped in disgust and sidestepped away from them.

Merlin used the momentary distraction to allow his magic to build.  It roiled and surged inside him like flood water looking for an escape.  He raised his hand and let it go.  It gushed out in a wave of crackling blue fire that crashed over Muirden and for a moment obscured him from view.  He heard Muirden’s shriek of anguish.

The blue fire dissipated, and Muirden gazed at him with pure hatred, but instead of launching an immediate counter-attack, he sent a blast of force at Leon, that pushed him off his feet and down on the floor among the beetles.

Leon yelped as there was a whir of shell-casings and the beetles flew up in a mass to land all over him.

Merlin racked his brain for the spell to shut them down.

He ran across to Leon to help him to his feet so he could brush the things off before any of them had a chance to enter his ears or nostrils. 

The fire drifting down from the herbs had started to catch in a dozen different places around the room and smoke was beginning to sting his eyes and make him cough.

“Get out of here,” Merlin urged Leon.

“Not without you,” said Leon, frantically brushing the beetles from his clothes.

Merlin knew he’d left himself open for too long, and span to attack Muirden again.  He was just in time to see the blast of lightning before it hit him.  He heard himself scream and fell helplessly to the floor, his muscles twitching and spasming.

Through watering eyes he saw Muirden raise his hand for the coup de grace, but he couldn’t bring his muscles under control in time to do anything about it.  Leon launched himself forward and swung his sword catching Muirden in the meat of his thigh.  Muirden cried out, and fell, blood spraying from his leg in a hot jet that hissed as it struck the patches of fire.  

Before Muirden could try to rise again, Merlin threw himself across the floor and landed on top of him.  He grabbed two handfuls of dirty, blond hair and thumped Muirden’s head viciously back against the floorboards, dazing him.

Beetles were crawling eagerly across the floorboards towards them, and Merlin fought to hold him down as the first beetle crept into Muirden’s ear. 

Muirden’s eyes widened and his whole body arched like a bow, almost throwing Merlin off.  Merlin forced himself to hold on as another beetle scurried into Muirden’s gaping mouth.  With their faces only inches apart, he watched the hate melt out of Muirden’s eyes and the blankness of death replace it.   Merlin began shuddering uncontrollably and felt his stomach heave.

Leon was pulling at the back of his shirt.  “We’ve done it.  Get up, and get those off you, before they kill you too.”

Merlin let himself be hauled to his feet and Leon hastily slapped away the few beetles that were trying to crawl up his shirt.

“The alarm will be raised soon.  Someone will smell the smoke.  We have to get out of here,”

Merlin shook himself.  ”Give me that big jar of white powder.”

Leon passed it to him and Merlin took it in trembling hands, he emptied it over Muirden’s corpse and the remaining beetles. 

“It burns with a white hot flame.  Once the fire reaches it then it should be enough to cover the evidence of a fight.  Hopefully, it’ll just seem as though a fire started accidentally and he got caught in it.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Leon helped him stagger from the room and they ran down the corridor and away from the scene.


	27. Chapter 27

The door slammed open and bounced off the wall. 

Merlin felt himself jump, but Leon was obviously trained to be beyond such things since he just looked up calmly to greet Arthur and Lancelot’s appearance in the doorway.

Arthur hastened over to them.  “You’re both alright?  We heard talk in the market of the physician’s quarters going up in an inferno.”

“We ran here,” said Lancelot.  “The castle’s in an uproar, they can tell that at least one person’s been killed by the fire…” his nose wrinkled distastefully, “you can smell it as soon as you go anywhere near.  But so far no-one knows who, or how many.”

“I thought,” Arthur was pale, “that Muirden had caught you.”

“He did,” said Merlin.

“Merlin was magnificent,” said Leon, eyes sparkling, “they were shooting fireballs and lightning at each other, it was something to see.”

Merlin flushed, “If you hadn’t got him in the leg, I would have been dead.”

Arthur chewed at his lower lip unhappily, looked for an instant as though he was going to reach out for Merlin, but then held himself tightly back and sat down, motioning Lancelot to do likewise.  Merlin threw him an affectionate look that Arthur returned with a small nod.

After they had discussed what had happened, Arthur called for some food and wine and they stayed talking over the meal until late afternoon.

Once Leon and Lancelot had taken their leave, Merlin stood to clear away the pewter plates and cutlery.

“Leave it, I’ll call someone to do it.”  Arthur stretched lazily.

“It’s fine,” said Merlin, “I might take these down and then help the other servants put up the holly and ivy for the feast tomorrow.  Truth to tell, I feel guilty that I haven’t been doing much the last few days.”

Arthur’s eyes widened.  ”You fought a sorcerer this morning!”

“I used to do that and all my jobs too,” grinned Merlin.

Arthur shook his head.  “Unbelievable.  I think we need to look at how your position will change because of the whole…magic thing.  Even I don’t expect the most powerful sorcerer in Albion to spend his time polishing my boots.”

“I told you, I’m happy to be your servant, though if you could see clear to getting someone else to muck out the horses I wouldn’t complain.”

“It’s a waste of your talents, Merlin.  You should be…I want you to be…my advisor.  In an official capacity.”

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t know if I’d be any good as an advisor.”

Arthur burst into laughter.  “For someone so unsure you’ve been persistently trying to tell me what to do since the day you met me.”

“I don’t think your father would appreciate a lowly manservant suddenly becoming advisor to the crown prince.”

Arthur nodded seriously, “I’ve come to realise that my father is out of touch.  The more I’ve spoken to him since I’ve been back the more I disagree with many of his policies.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s been a great king, and ruled with strength.  But…a lot of his ideas are coloured by the past, or by the circumstances of my mother’s death.”

Merlin couldn’t see where he was going with this.  “He’s never going to change.”

“I hope he may, with time, but no, it won’t be easy.  So,” Arthur paused, “I’m going to ask him if he’ll consider stepping down in my favour.”

Merlin felt his breath catch in his throat, and could hardly speak.  “No…”

“If the Goddess is willing, he may live another forty years.  I can’t sit by and watch harmless magic users, even children, put to death.  You want me to live for the next few decades just waiting for you to be caught out and put to death in front of me?”

“I’ll be careful, I always have been…”

Arthur snorted in disbelief.  “Alright then, leaving aside the magic issue.  Then there are the good men barred from the knighthood just based on the circumstances of their birth.  When I meet Gwaine again?  Or Percival, or Elyon…You said Gwaine _died_ for us Merlin.  Am I meant to tell him he’s not good enough?”

Merlin shook his head, he understood what Arthur was saying, agreed with it, but the whole idea was a disaster in the making.

“And then there’s the dragon,” continued Arthur, “as much as I don’t trust that creature as far as I could throw it, it’s obviously intelligent, as much as we are, no doubt more.  To keep it chained up in solitary confinement like that for year on year is just plain wrong. Have you tried to use your dragonlord powers yet?”

“I haven’t dared,” said Merlin, “I almost don’t want to know.  If I can use the dragonspeak then I know for sure that Balinor is dead, as long as I don’t try, it’s possible that he might still be alive.”

“Well, if he is, would you like him to be able to return to Camelot again?”

Merlin felt his eyes sting hotly, “That’s not fair.”

“No,” said Arthur, “it’s not.  But, that’s what I want.  To make things fair.”

“Uther will never agree, Arthur.  He won’t give up power to you, he can’t, it’s not in his nature.”

“I can’t sit around for the next forty years watching…and helping…the unfairness to continue.”

“And if you ask, and he refuses?” Merlin said angrily, “Because he will refuse, you know.  What then, a coup?”

Arthur was shocked, “No.”

“Because that’s how he’ll see it, you know.  He’ll see your suggestion that he step down as a threat.  It doesn’t matter how you phrase it, he won’t be able to see beyond the fact that you want the throne.  It’ll play right into Morgana’s hands.  He’ll think I enchanted you into turning against him.”  Merlin turned away.

Arthur surged to his feet and grabbed Merlin’s arms, turning him to face him.  “I won’t rip the kingdom apart in battle with my father, but I have to at least try to make him see reason.”

Merlin’s chest felt hollow, and he was loose in Arthur’s grip.  “You give this empty talk about making me your advisor, and then, you don’t listen to me.”

“I think I’m right in this.  I’ve changed.”

“Yes,” said Merlin, more forcefully than he intended to, “ _you_ have, but _he_ hasn’t!  This is madness, you’re going to end up killing us both.”

“You don’t have to stay, if you think I put you in danger,” said Arthur stiffly.

Merlin shook Arthur’s hands from his arms, “Since when has you putting us in danger made me leave?”

“Perhaps you should go back to Ealdor.  Actually, if you don’t trust my judgement at all, why are you even following me?”  Arthur’s voice turned icy, “or is it because Morgana’s right and you do hope in time to have me doing exactly as you say.”

Merlin reeled back as though he’d been struck. 

Arthur looked appalled by what he’d just said, but Merlin could hardly see him as the room had blurred in front of him.  He snatched up the plates from the table, “I’ll take these down to the kitchens.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin slammed out of the room, banging his shoulder on the doorjamb as he passed but barely noticing. 

“Merlin,” Arthur sounded weary, “Merlin, come back.”

He was probably weary of ignoring constant ‘advice’ thought Merlin bitterly as he clattered down the stairs.  Morgana had said that Merlin had him on a string and he had believed it.  He actually thought that Merlin wanted to manipulate him.  After all these years Arthur didn’t know him at all.  All these years of putting his own life and his own wants on hold, and Arthur still had no idea who Merlin even was.

He could barely see now, he felt his nose starting to run but couldn’t wipe it as his arms were full of plates. 

“Merlin!”

He didn’t have a chance to recognise the voice as something metal hit him soundly across the side of the head.  He felt pain exploding through his skull and all his muscles turned to jelly.  He distantly heard the metal plates clashing like thunder down the stairs, then his knees gave way and he fell, and stopped hearing anything at all.  


	28. Chapter 28

It was dark when Merlin opened his eyes; the echoing, dank darkness of tunnels and catacombs.  The sudden blaze of a torch thrust near his face blinded him for a moment, and he tried to pull away from it, but realised he was bound.  He blinked owlishly, willing his eyes to adjust.  A familiar face came blurrily into view.  “Gwaine!”

Gwaine backed hastily away, his head turning behind him to look for answers.  “How does he know my name?”

“It’s what I told you, Sweet, he’s a murdering, evil sorcerer.  A demon must have told him.”  Morgana swam into view, her long-nailed fingers gripping Gwaine’s shoulder proprietorially.

Gwaine let out a guffaw of relief, “That was scary for a moment.”

The flickering torchlight was illuminating a small room, the orange light danced over a ceiling and back wall carved from solid bedrock.  The other three walls were made from roughhewn stone blocks.  There was no door, a few stones of the front wall had merely fallen away to reveal an uneven man-sized opening out onto an ink-black passageway.  

Merlin realised that he was sitting against one of the side walls, his wrists bound behind his back by thick metal cuffs chained to the wall.  The chain clinked noisily when he pulled against it, the noise echoing back immediately.

In the centre of the room stood an oblong stone block and, because he was viewing it from below, it took him a moment to recognise it as a sarcophagus like the one he’d seen in Cornelius Sigan’s burial chamber.

This must be another of the tombs of the old kings that lay deep beneath the castle.

A few objects littered the tomb, covered in the dust of decades: an ancient shield, a broadsword with a badly nicked blade, some rusty armour in a corner.  The part of Merlin’s mind that wasn’t reeling with fear noted objectively that rust meant that there must be some groundwater somewhere down here seeping damply into the air.

He looked back to his friend, “Gwaine, help me.”

Gwaine was simply dressed in a loose cotton shirt under an open leather jerkin.  He shivered and looked to Morgana.  “I wish he’d stop talking to me like he knows me.”

Morgana herself looked a little startled, “You haven’t met before, have you?”

“Me?  Hang around with a sorcerer?   I think not.  Never seen him before.”  He looked at Merlin uneasily and Merlin realised with despair that there was no glimmer of recognition; they obviously hadn’t met in this world.

Morgana stepped forwards to dangle something from her fingers, she carefully kept it shielded from Gwaine by her body, but allowed Merlin to recognise it as the bottle of hemlock from his belt-pouch.  “Thank you for this.  It’ll be very useful for when Arthur gives Ygraine’s goblet back to Uther.”

Merlin’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper, “No.”

“Come on, Princess.  Shall we go,” Gwaine made an exaggerated yawning noise, “I’m feeling very tired, and quite ready for bed.”

Gwaine couldn’t see the expression of disgust that flitted across Morgana’s face, but when she spoke her voice was all honey, “In a moment my love.  I just need a quiet word with the sorcerer here.”

She leaned close to Merlin and he yearned for his hands to be free so that he could put them round her throat.

“Once Uther has announced me as legitimate, then Arthur…or that imposter pretending to be Arthur…will be seen to poison his father in full view of the Yule feast.  As, a loving daughter, and the new Queen, I’ll have him put to death for it obviously.  It shouldn’t take more than a few days for everything to be complete.  You might even still be alive down here while Arthur’s pyre is smoking and my coronation is taking place above you.”

Gwaine was quietly whistling, it sounded nonchalant, but Merlin recognised it as something he did when he was particularly uneasy. 

Morgana glanced round at him irritably, as you’d look at a restless child.  She rose to her feet.  “I’m ready.”

“Gwaine, she’s going to murder Prince Arthur and the King,” said Merlin desperately.

Morgana rolled her eyes, “he’ll spout any sort of lies to avoid his fate.”

Gwaine looked at Merlin almost apologetically, “I don’t believe you, but…even if I did, they’re nothing to me, friend.  Morgana’s been good to me, and I don’t owe any loyalty to those murdering bastards.  They couldn’t give a toss about me, I know that much.”

“Arthur’s different.  You were…will be…a knight of Camelot…”

Gwaine grimaced, “Now I KNOW you’re talking rot.”  With a slick snick of metal he half-unsheathed the dagger at his waist, “do you want me to finish him now?”

Merlin couldn’t help recoiling back against the wall.

“No,” said Morgana, taking Gwaine’s hand to push the dagger back.  “Put the torch in that sconce on the wall, then come outside with me.”

Gwaine thrust the torch into the sconce a few feet above and to the left of Merlin’s head.  Then they both stepped through the hole in the wall and into the passage.

She pointed at the stones.  “Now, rebuild the wall.”

“What?”  Gwaine looked aghast.

“You can’t kill a sorcerer that powerful, you just contain him.”

Gwaine backed away a few steps.  “You know I love you, Princess, but I’m not walling a man up alive, not even a sorcerer.”

“You said you’d do anything for me,” cajoled Morgana.

“I’ll slit his throat for you, but I’ll not leave him to die of thirst, alone down here in the darkness.”

Morgana softened, “Perhaps you’re right.  Go and cut his throat.”

As Gwaine turned away from her, Merlin shouted a warning.  But it was too late, and she swung the hilt of her dagger into the back of Gwaine’s head.  He fell like a stone.

**************

 

It was several hours before Gwaine came to.  Merlin had been sitting watching the progress of the burning torch and wondering how long it would be before it burned out, when he heard Gwaine’s chain clatter.

He watched Gwaine gradually surface into consciousness, then tug against the metal cuffs binding him to the wall, he smirked for a moment, (and Merlin didn’t even want to _know_ what that was about), before Merlin could see the fleeting expressions cross his face as the events of the night came back to him.

Gwaine’s eyes started open and his whole body shook violently as he wrenched at the chain binding the cuffs behind him to the stone blocks.  He blinked in horror at the newly rebuilt wall that entombed them alive miles beneath the castle.

He knew this Gwaine had never met him, but nevertheless Merlin couldn’t help seeing him as the Gwaine that he knew.

Merlin sighed with sad amusement, “Oh, well done!”  


	29. Chapter 29

Gwaine was looking at him with something like fear.  It was painful to be regarded like that by someone you knew as a dear friend.  Merlin didn’t want to deal with it at the moment and closed his eyes. 

As time passed his head had protested more and more at the blow it had received.  He must have fallen down the stairs afterwards as well, since he could feel multiple bruises.  He had spent some time earlier tensing various limbs to test out the pain, but luckily nothing felt broken.

Mind you, it was all a bit academic if he was going to die chained up here.  Kilgharrah had mentioned the prophesy about Morgana sending him to his tomb, and she had definitely done that.  Well, someone’s tomb anyway…and now it would be his.  He vaguely wondered whether that meant he was now sharing ownership of the tomb with the king in the sarcophagus, or whether it was the king’s tomb and Merlin would be just some sort of dead interloper…

Perhaps that blow on the head had hit him harder than he’d thought.

“Are you asleep?”

Merlin cracked an eye open, “What?”

Gwaine shifted uneasily, “I didn’t know if you’d…died.”

Merlin snorted, “Why would you care, you were the one who was going to slit my throat.”

“Still,” said Gwaine, “It’s nice to have companionship in a situation like this.”

“Merlin opened both eyes, “What?  Dying?”

“Well, I’d rather not.”  Gwaine coughed, “How’s the head?”

“Like it was recently hit with a poker.”

Gwaine sniffed and looked at the floor.

Right.

Merlin let his eyes slide shut.  With his eyes closed the throb in his head became the warm beat of a distant sea, rather than the violent pounding of waves on the shore that made it difficult to think.

A few minutes passed. “Still alive then?”

Merlin cracked them open again.  “No thanks to you.  The Gwaine I knew would never have offered to slit someone’s throat; I guess your life has been very different.”

Gwaine blinked at him, “That sentence makes no sense, plus you keep talking as though you know me, when I know you don’t.”

Merlin shrugged, “You’re right.  I don’t know you.” 

“And, well, you’ve got to admit you had it coming.”

Merlin could hardly be bothered to answer.  “Why did I have it coming?”

“Well, killing all those orphans.”

That woke him up.  Merlin blinked at him, “What?”

“The alms house run by that lovely widow…she took in all those orphans.  Morgana told me how you torched it with magic.”

“She told you I set fire to a load of orphans?  Were they _very_ young?”  The unexpected laughter that bubbled up hurt Merlin’s stomach.   

“Well, about four years old, you should know.” Gwaine was staring at him indignantly.  “She also told me about the Duke who was riding past the alms house, and how his spaniel had just had a litter of pups, so, as it was Yule he gifted them to the children.  They were all sitting in the main room of the house playing together when you…”  Gwaine stuttered to a stop.

“Why on earth would he give them puppies?”

“Well, once he noticed the orphan children were all…”  Gwaine paused, there was a deep flush of embarrassment rising up his neck.  He mumbled the next word under his breath.

“What?”

“Blind!”

Laughter made Merlin double over so hard that he wrenched his wrists against the manacles.  Perhaps it was the stress of the situation, but Merlin now had tears running down his cheeks.  He could barely speak, “She told you I set fire to an old widow and a load of little, blind orphans…with puppies!”  

Gwaine looked mortified.  “Well, it sounded _much_ more credible when she said it.”

Bugger!  Now his nose was running.  Merlin twisted his head to try and wipe it on his shoulder.  He couldn’t reach.  He had to lean forward and rub his face on his knee.  Not his proudest moment.

“She also said you killed the Physician here.”

Well, that definitely stopped him laughing.  Merlin sat back, blinking.  “Well, that bit at least is true.”

“I ran into Gaius once, he was a decent old man.”

“Not Gaius!” said Merlin, horrified.  “Muirden blackmailed Gaius into leaving and took his place.  I killed Muirden, though it was in self-defense.  But…I can’t lie…he deserved it, and I’m not sorry.  And anyway, he killed me, and Arthur, so it was only fair.”

“Are you a bit concussed?”

“What?”

“You said he killed you, but he evidently didn’t.”

Well, they certainly had the time…  And it would take their mind off waiting for death.  Merlin launched into the whole story…

Half way through it the torch guttered out.  They sat for a moment, both awed by the sudden total darkness, and then Merlin continued.

“Well,” said Gwaine when he’d finished.  “That’s a bit different.”

“You believe me?”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I believed a story about blind orphans and puppies.”

They both burst into laughter.

“So, you’re really a sorcerer?”

Merlin deliberated for a moment, but then wondered what there was to lose.  Even if Gwaine did react badly, then he could hardly attack him with his hands chained behind his back.  And neither of them appeared to be going anywhere soon.  He concentrated…released his magic…and a small glowing, blue orb rose into the air in front of them, illuminating an area about a yard around them in a cool light.

Gwaine’s eyes widened, “If you could burn snow, it would look like that.”

Merlin tilted his head, “It is pretty, isn’t it?”

“It’s odd to think that you know me, and I don’t really know you.”

“When I heard from Hecate that you’d died…”  Merlin’s voice cracked slightly. 

Gwaine’s mouth twitched upwards, “I don’t think I’ve known anyone before who would care much either way.”

“It’s not just me, Arthur and Leon and Percival...all of us would be…”

“All these people I don’t know who would care about me,” Gwaine tossed his hair and smirked, “it’s enough to go to my head.”

“Well,“ grimaced Merlin, “it’s all a bit irrelevant now.”

“What do you mean?  You can get us out of here right?  You’re this powerful warlock!  Just a bit of magic and…”

“Anything I can think of doesn’t seem helpful.  I can bend the dents out of armour, but these manacles are thick, and if I start bashing in one side of them then the other side…”

“…is going to bash into our wrists.”

“Or, I think I could turn them red-hot and start to melt them…”

Gwaine shuddered, “No thank you!”

“I suppose I could break the chains leading to the wall at least.”

“Well, that sounds a decent start.”

It was difficult to focus his magic, as he couldn’t actually see the chains behind him, and he’d never before needed to practise doing magic blindfold. Merlin concentrated his magic and began the task of beating and bending a link until it broke.  It was slow going, as he kept misjudging and hitting another part of the chain.

While he worked, taut with concentration, Gwaine was a gentle relaxation in his ear, seeming to know what he needed to keep him going, and prattling about his life and various conquests.  Casually keeping Merlin’s mind away from the fear of failure and of being buried alive. 


	30. Chapter 30

It was slow going but finally a link on Gwaine’s chain snapped with a harsh crack and he was able to tug his manacles free of it.  They still had their hands bound behind them, but at least they weren’t chained to the wall anymore.

Gwaine beamed.  “Well done, friend.”

His head was pounding painfully and sweat was rolling down Merlin’s face when he slouched back against the wall.  “We’re not out of here yet.” 

Gwaine rolled up onto his knees and, by leaning one shoulder against the rock face behind them, he managed to get his feet under himself and stand up.  He walked forwards into the shadows and jerked his head at the ball of blue light that still hung in the air.  It was much, much fainter now, and far smaller, but still giving out a dim luminescence.  “Send that over here would you.”

It was impossible to tell what time it might be, but Merlin guessed it must be way after midnight and into the early hours of the morning.  The effort of using his magic to break the thick chains had drained him until Merlin felt as though he could fall asleep where he sat, but he obligingly pushed the ball of light forward so that Gwaine could examine the wall of stones that cut them off from the corridor.

After a moment Gwaine drew himself back and then surged forward to roughly shoulder the wall.  A fine layer of dust trickled down.

He tried again...and again…and again…  Merlin winced as Gwaine’s shoulder hit the wall with more and more force.  More dust slithered down but none of the stones seemed to budge at all.  “Ouch!”  Gwaine, flexed his shoulder and Merlin could only imagine what sort of a bruise he’d have there tomorrow.

Gwaine turned back to Merlin, for a moment he looked utterly downcast, but something he saw in the sheer weariness of Merlin’s posture seemed to make him stand straighter and force a cocky smile.  “You wouldn’t think to look at those nails that she’d have such an aptitude for dry stone walling.”

Merlin grinned tiredly, “That’s Morgana; a mine of hidden talents.  …of course most of them involve trying to kill people.”

“I suppose a girl’s got to have a pass-time,’ said Gwaine dryly, “I just wish she’d gone for tapestry.”

Merlin snorted. 

“Can you push the wall down with some sort of magic?”

“I’d need my hands free to focus the force,” said Merlin, “and even if they were, I don’t know if I could push heavy stones that are wedged in that tightly, not if your shoulder isn’t moving them.”

“Could you send the light ball upstairs to fetch someone?”

“The first person who sees it is going to raise the alarm, and then our ‘rescue’ ends surrounded by guards on a nice, hot pyre in the courtyard.”

Gwaine wrinkled his nose.  “I’ll pass on that.”

The blue ball of light suddenly sputtered and went out.

Gwaine let out a soft, choking sound.  “It’s very dark down here, without that.  Do you think you might be able to call it up again?”

Merlin tried to reach down inside himself for the magic, but felt only fragments of power that slipped out of his grip like dry sand; he felt like an empty well.  “I don’t think I can.  I’m exhausted, Gwaine.”

He heard Gwaine shuffle back across the floor and then boots knocked against his.  Gwaine gave a small sigh of relief and Merlin heard him flopping down on the floor next to him.  There was the noise of cloth shuffling over stone, and then he felt Gwaine’s shoulder suddenly pressed against his.

Gwaine sounded apologetic, “It’s very dark, and the whole, walled-up-in-a-tomb thing is starting to get to me.”

“Let me rest…just for a tiny while…and we’ll think of something else…” 


	31. Chapter 31

Despite the circumstances Merlin must have been drained enough to slip into an uneasy doze as he was woken by someone insistently nudging his shoulder.  For a moment, when the perfect darkness continued after he opened his eyes, he panicked, blinking wildly.  Then he remembered where he was.  “Gwaine?”

“Sorry to wake you, I did let you rest for a bit.  But it started to feel as though I was trapped here alone, and I was starting to go just a little bit crazy.”

“Sorry, I really only meant to rest my eyes for a second.”  He reached for his magic and found it, if not fully refreshed, at least responding to him again.  He called up a blue ball of light to hover in front of them.

Gwaine was pressed against his side, taut as a lute string; with the appearance of the light, Merlin could feel the man’s body subtly relax, like someone releasing the tuning peg.  “I don’t think I’m ever going to sleep again without a lit candle in the room.”

“Had any ideas on how to get out of here?”

“None, and I’m starting to feel a little thirsty.  How long do you suppose we’ll last without water?”

Merlin tried to remember what he’d read in Gaius’ medical books.  “About three days or so, I’d guess.  We’ve got to get out of here very soon though, or we won’t be able to warn Arthur.”

“I hope Arthur deserves this devotion.  All I care about at the moment is saving my own skin.”  Gwaine grinned, “…and possibly yours.”

“Well, there is water somewhere down here on this level, there’s enough in the air to turn the armour in the corner rusty, I noticed it earlier.  Not much good to...”  Merlin fell silent so abruptly that Gwaine turned sharply to look at him.

“What?”

“I’ve been working on a spell to try and pull water into a small area.  A couple of weeks ago I kicked over the pail while I was washing the floor.  It went everywhere and took ages to mop up.  I thought if I could find a way to pull it all into one large, neat puddle it’d be really helpful if it ever happened again.”

“You think you could pull water in here to drink?”

“Better than that.”

“What?”  Gwaine was all eagerness.

“Let me have a try first, I don’t want to get your hopes up.  I’m going to have to let the light go out for a while; I’m going to need all my concentration.”

Gwaine nodded.  “Fine, do it.”

Merlin breathed deeply, closing his eyes and calming himself; reaching deep within for the heart of his magic.  He could almost see it behind his closed eyelids, a roiling core within him of boiling red and icy blue fire, swirling and twisting around deep inside like two dragons fighting…or mating.

He instinctively knew that it was the blue fire that he needed.  He called it to him, shuddering as it eagerly went slithering through his veins at his call.  He remembered the words in the old language that he’d chosen to focus it and send it forth…  He whispered them into the air and felt the magic tensing like a hound waiting to be unleashed.  He murmured the last word, and felt it bounding out of him on its task.

He followed it…he wasn’t sure how…he couldn’t see it, or hear it…but he could feel it…like his own fingers questing out… There was the water…running in an underground stream just beneath the catacombs.  His magic dived into it, and now his magic wasn’t anything like a hound, now it was a salmon, rising and jumping with the surge…until he wasn’t sure whether the water was moving him, or he was moving the water.

The salmon jumped and strove upwards, moving upwards through solid earth, pulling the water behind it.  Upwards, until his physical body could smell the new dampness in the air and hear the wet hiss of water rising through dry dirt.  He felt it erupt near the wall, first trickling over the surface of the dry ground, then starting to permeate into it, turning the dirt to mud that billowed up and burst in loud, dirty bubbles as more water came from below.

“What’s that?”

He heard Gwaine’s alarmed query beside him as the belching mud became audible in the tomb, but Merlin couldn’t break off to answer him yet.  There was the quiet, eerie creak of stones adjusting to a now soggy foundation.

More water…more…the creaking was loud now.  Then came a rattling crash as the earth beneath the wall became too muddy to hold it firm, and the wall bowed and the first stone slipped from its place and clattered to the ground.  There was a pause, while both he and Gwaine held their breath.  Then a great rumble like thunder echoed round the room as a huge section of wall came tumbling down.

As the deafening noise died away, Merlin cast a blue ball of light into the air.  A large section of the wall had collapsed into the now muddy floor, and the passageway beyond yawned like an open mouth in front of them.

******************

They managed to scramble clumsily over the remnants of the wall and out into freedom.  It took a while to find a way out of the catacombs and up into a section of the castle that Merlin recognised, but from there they could make their way up through the lesser used corridors towards Arthur’s chambers.

Dawn light was shafting in through the arrow slits they passed, throwing long, buttermilk stripes across the flagstones.  Merlin glanced across at Gwaine and knew that both of them were appreciating the beauty of the light this morning in a way they never had before. 

There were plenty of servants bustling about, but all of them far too busy with preparations for Yule to pay any attention to the two of them, and it was fairly easy to duck into side corridors, or into recesses in the wall, and let the servants pass them by unnoticed.

They reached Arthur’s door, and Gwaine raised his eyebrows at Merlin.  Merlin nodded his head and Gwaine smirked, obviously tickled at the idea of being able to kick the Crown Prince’s door.  He booted the door twice.

Merlin wondered whether Arthur would be too deeply asleep to hear it, but to his surprise the door was whipped open almost immediately by a fully dressed Arthur.  Several expressions chased across Arthur’s face in quick succession: anger, relief, surprise, shock…

“Where have you…?  Gwaine?  Come in!”

He grabbed their shoulders and pulled them into the room, slamming the door behind them.

“Where have you been?”  This was directed at Merlin, and he guessed there would have been a lot more heat in it except for the fact that Arthur had already seen the manacles on their wrists and the sorry state of their muddy clothing.

Arthur reached a gentle hand to the side of Merlin’s head, and Merlin felt the fingers pulling in his matted hair, “You’ve been bleeding.”

Gwaine shuffled his feet.  “I might have hit him with a poker.”

“What!”

“Morgana lied to him; said I was an evil sorcerer who’d killed Gaius.”  Merlin saved Gwaine’s blushes by omitting the other ridiculous lie that she’d told him.

“If it was anyone else, then I’d still want to knock them down.  But it’s good to see you Gwaine.”

“Likewise,” said Gwaine.  “This is our first meeting as far as I’m concerned, but Merlin’s assured me I won’t find you too obnoxious.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.  Then twisted Merlin around to look at the manacles while Merlin told him what had happened.

Arthur interrupted him briefly to comment, “They’re standard issue manacles, at least.  She must have just taken a couple of pairs from one of the dungeons.  I’ve got a key that’ll open them.”  He nodded at Merlin to continue while he crossed to his bedside cabinet to get the large ring of castle keys kept there.

He came back and unlocked their manacles.  Gwaine sank into a chair rubbing his wrists, but before Merlin had a chance to do likewise, Arthur had grabbed his hands and was holding them in front of him to examine his wrists.  The skin was abraded and raw.

Arthur ignored Gwaine’s startled glance and raised them to his lips to softly kiss the pulse points on each one.  “Nothing that won’t heal in a day or two.”

Merlin flushed, touched but embarrassed.  “I thought you’d still be abed at this hour in the morning.”

Arthur looked at him without releasing his hands.  “You think I went to bed!  After a couple of hours I got over my pride and went looking for you.  Then discovered you were nowhere to be found.  Leon and Lancelot and I have been scouring the castle for you.” 

Now he had a pause to look properly, he could see the faint shadows beneath Arthur’s blue eyes that told of a sleepless night.

“Are you two lovebirds going to sit down, or should I just cover my eyes while you get on with it?”

Merlin threw him an appalled glare, but Arthur just let out a chuckle.  “Well he obviously doesn’t change whatever world you’re on.”  Arthur lowered his voice so that he spoke for Merlin’s ears only.  “What I said before…about you trying to control me…”

“Did you mean it?”

Arthur looked even more tired.  “I swear I didn’t.”

Merlin smiled lightly and leaned across to kiss his cheek, “Then we don’t need to talk about it again.”


	32. Chapter 32

Arthur sent passing servants to find Lancelot and Leon, then another to ask the kitchens to send up breakfast for five.  By the time Lancelot and Leon arrived the food was already on the table and the others were tucking in.

Leon stood stiff-backed, unable to hide a disapproving stare at the long-haired stranger who was tilted back in a chair with his dirty boots propped on the crown prince’s table.  Gwaine smirked insolently at him and continued peeling a boiled egg. 

Arthur and Merlin caught each other’s amused gaze.

“This is Gwaine,” said Arthur, smothering a smile, “believe me, you’ll get used to him…I’m still not totally sure whether that’s a good thing.” He motioned Leon and Lancelot to sit down and shoved a terracotta platter of cold chicken towards them.

While eating they updated each other with everything that had happened.

Lancelot frowned.  “Do we attack her before the feast?”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, brooding, when he finally spoke, his voice was iron-hard.  “I’d thought that we’d poison her at the feast and that, as far as our father was concerned, she’d die an innocent victim of some unknown assassin.  But now she’s taken that choice out of our hands by stealing the hemlock…and I find I’m pleased that she has.”

Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine.  Arthur's eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, his jaw set; any softness Merlin knew seemed to have fled from him and Arthur was completely the King of Albion; a fair and just ruler who was prepared to make harsh decisions if necessary.  In that moment he could see the king that Arthur would ultimately grow into and it made something warm and hot stir inside him. 

“What do you mean to do?” he breathed.

The other men around the table seemed to be equally hanging on Arthur’s next announcement, even Gwaine seemed in reluctant awe of him and had slowly moved his feet to the floor as though in a daze. 

“I can’t allow my father to name her as an heir.  I’ll see him alone later today and explain how she planned to poison him and take the throne.”

“He won’t believe you,” said Merlin.

“No, I don’t suppose he will,” sighed Arthur.  “So then I will ask that he step down in my favour.”

Merlin’s eyes widened.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, Merlin, and you’re right, no matter how softly and slowly I go about it, my father will never give up power willingly, even to me.  But equally, I cannot allow the injustices of his reign to continue.  So I will request that he stand down.  And hope against hope that I can convince him that it’s the best thing for the future of Camelot, and assure him that his position of honour will not be lessened by moving into the position of my advisor.  …However, if he refuses, then I will be forced to insist.”

“It’ll mean civil war,” said Leon.

“It would if it were done in public, however I hope that you will all be just outside the door to support me?”  His searching gaze found and held each of their eyes in turn, “If any of you choose not to help me then I release you with no blame and you should leave now.  For all that I think that I’m doing the right thing, it’s still treachery to the crown, plain and simple.”

Merlin glanced at the other men.

Gwaine held no loyalty towards Uther, and he obviously already liked Arthur and scented adventure, he would follow.

Merlin knew with a pang of affection that Lancelot would simply do whatever was in Merlin’s best interests, plus he already had the beginnings of hero worship for Arthur, he would follow.

Of Leon, he wasn’t sure.  Leon was the most bound by tradition, and even though he was fiercely loyal to Arthur, Merlin wasn’t sure if he would be able to countenance a forced abdication.

“I’m in,” said Gwaine enthusiastically.

“So am I.”  Lancelot said more thoughtfully.

Arthur looked at Leon kindly, “And you?”

Leon frowned, and there was a long moment where he sat silently staring at the surface of the table.  Finally he spoke, “I would lay down my life for the King.”  He looked up and met Arthur’s eyes with surprising frankness, “and I know you would too, Arthur.  And because I know how deeply you love your father, I also know that you would never do this thing unless it was the right thing to do.  I will help you make this change-over run as smoothly and bloodlessly as possible.”

“And you?”

There was a long silence.  Merlin was confused by the question, looking from face to face, they’d all answered now.  Then he glanced at Arthur and was startled to realise that Arthur had been addressing the question to him.

“Me?”

Arthur smiled slightly, “I respect your opinion and would understand if you disagreed with me on this, and chose to go a different way.”

Merlin smiled warmly, “I think your decision is very wise, Sire.  I would be honoured to help you.”

Arthur acknowledged the hint of mocking with an amused twist of his lips.

When he spoke again though, his voice was all natural command; an instinctive mix of both King and military strategist, his mind working quickly to assemble the plan of battle.  “Merlin, it won’t be questioned that you’ve moved up into the position of Court Physician since you were both Gaius’ and Muirden’s apprentice.  You will announce that my Father has been taken ill and cannot attend the feast.”

He turned to Leon, “Will the knights follow me.”

Leon didn’t answer immediately, but gave it thought. Finally he said, “The majority of them will.  A few of the old guard will remain with your father, but most of the knights have trained under yourself and if you make a good case in the Hall, and if I show my allegiance…I think they will follow.”

“Leon, you will ensure the knights are behind me and immediately quell any hints of objection from any military personnel that Morgana might have secretly allied to herself.”

Arthur turned his attention to Lancelot and Gwaine.  “And the people of the town and the country, will they accept me?”

“Many families have lost loved ones to the war on magic, they miss the time when a wise man or woman could help the crops or beasts along with a spell of good fortune,” said Lancelot,” most would welcome a relaxing of the laws.”

“With all due respect, your father isn’t the most beloved of men,” commented Gwaine wryly.

“Well then, Lancelot, I’d like you to guard my father, and prevent him from leaving his chambers, but also protect him from any possible moves by Morgana or her allies.  Gwaine, I’d like you to mix with the nobles and common folk, ensuring that any rumours that are spread are those that we want them to hear.” 

“And Morgana?” queried Merlin.

“We confront Morgana in full view of the Yule feast, so everyone can hear what she’d planned and pass judgement on her there.”

“She will always be a source of rebellion, even if you lock her up.”

“Not if we seal the feast chamber until the matter is settled,” said Arthur, and the harsh tone of his voice made it clear what he intended.  “Once the Great Hall is unbarred again, the changeover will have been accomplished, and I will walk out of the Yule Feast as the new King, and my most honoured father, whom I still deeply love and respect will be a treasured advisor to the throne.”

“Will Uther accept that?” asked Gwaine.

Arthur’s mouth was a hard line.  “If there are too many differences of opinion then it’s possible he may want to retreat permanently to luxurious quarters in the West Wing under an armed escort and do his advising from there.” 

“If we are agreed, then all that remains is to plan the details,” said Arthur.  “And after that I’ll ask you all to retire until this evening, since I think both I and Merlin need to bathe and sleep for a couple of hours before I tackle my father.”

******************

Once the other men had dispersed, Arthur called for a bath to be brought.  The large, metal bath sat in front of the open fire, the steam drifting up enticingly in the morning light.  It was scented with oil of lavender and the fragrance hung heavily in the air like a promise.  Merlin looked at it longingly, knowing that Arthur would be happy to share it, and that it wouldn’t be a matter of washing down in a bowl later.

He stepped towards Arthur to help him disrobe, but Arthur caught his hands, careful to avoid the sore wrists.

“No, let me.”

Merlin blinked tiredly.

Arthur smiled softly, and began to unfasten Merlin’s belt.  “Let me.”

Merlin was limp as a child’s poppet in Arthur’s hands, allowing himself to be turned and the muddy clothes to be peeled from him.

Arthur leaned in, his tongue was an unexpected wet, warm slide up the side of Merlin’s neck.  “Relax.”

That was an absurd admonition; Merlin’s bones already felt like wet wool.

Arthur handed Merlin into the bath, and Merlin sank into it gratefully, settling down and tilting his head back against the rolled tin rim and letting his eyelids slide half-shut.

After a long moment of blissful floating, he felt Arthur gently grasp his shoulders and push him forwards so that his arse slithered along the warm oily metal beneath him and his knees rose up out of the water.  He felt Arthur climb into the hot water behind him, and sit down.  Arthur’s bent legs pressed against either side of the bath, sandwiching Merlin’s lower body warmly between them.

Merlin groaned, a sound low and deep.  He heard Arthur chuckle. 

His head was tilted back now, Arthur’s rounded chest and defined shoulder acting as a pillow.

He gasped as he felt calloused fingers brush his cock tentatively before clasping around it in a firm hold. 

Ah, there was a warm grip on his length now, slowly and tenderly pulling him.  The water was a delicious lubrication to the movement.

It had been a traumatic night and it would be far too easy to forget everything and just selfishly enjoy the experience.  He struggled to wake up a little, and reach around behind him to help Arthur to completion at the same time. 

Arthur chuckled and with his free hand batted him away.  “Just enjoy.”

Merlin relaxed, and stretched languorously into the sensation of the warm, beloved body pressed against him as though sinking into a dream.  And all the while the rough-skinned fingers were working on him, moving him forward deliciously, like being borne upward into a cloud of hot, pulsing pleasure.  He arched upwards out of the water, his soul pulsing out of him…

He dimly remembered Arthur laughing affectionately, and then felt kisses that peppered the side of his face like cool raindrops against heated skin.  And then he was gone…he drifted into sleep whether he wanted to or not.

*****************************

The next he knew, he was drifting awake, feeling blissful and totally refreshed.  He was in Arthur's bed, with Arthur’s sleeping body draped over him.  A sharp cheekbone was nestled against the soft, dark hair of Merlin’s chest.  Arthur’s hair smelled fresh and faintly of lavender.  Merlin smiled fondly and caressed the smooth, freckled skin of Arthur’s naked back, his head tilted back happily when Arthur’s slack, half-dreaming mouth found one of Merlin’s nipples and unconsciously mouthed at it in his sleep.

Merlin slipped back into dreams again, there were a few hours yet before Arthur had to face his father.


	33. Chapter 33

It was impossible to hear exactly what was being said, but it was obvious from the volume of the voices that Arthur and Uther were arguing.  The four men avoided each other’s gaze uncomfortably as they waited in the corridor.

After what seemed an age the door opened and Arthur stood back to allow them into the room. 

Uther stood tensely on the far side of the room, the muscles of his shoulders were bunched beneath the brown leather of his long waistcoat and his hands were curled into loose fists; he reminded Merlin of a boar at bay and ready to charge. 

“You!” he spat at Leon, “I never suspected you to be a treacherous viper.”

Leon flinched and Arthur rested a supportive hand on his shoulder.  “There is no-one more loyal and he’d protect you to the death.  But I’ve convinced him that it’s time for the crown to pass from father to son.  You’ve been a great King, father, but it’s time to move forward.”

Uther barely seemed to be listening.  “Morgana was right, that servant has enchanted you.  You would never do this if you had free will.”  Merlin felt the full force of Uther’s hatred fall on him as Uther drew his sword.

From either side Merlin heard the metallic whisper of Lancelot, Leon and Gwaine’s swords sliding from their scabbards.

Arthur’s voice was firm, but he held up his open hands peaceably in front of him.  “Put up your sword, father, I’ll fight you myself before I see you try to murder my friends.”

“You speak of a servant as a friend?”  Uther sneered.  “Now I know he’s put a spell on you.”  He began slowly circling to the left, the point of his blade aimed for Merlin’s chest.  “It’s not murder if they’re magic users, Arthur, you should know that, it’s just destroying vermin.”

Merlin’s hands clenched hard enough that his nails bit into his palms.  “All the innocent people you’ve burned, and you feel no guilt for it at all, do you?”

Uther’s eyes widened in sudden outrage. “How dare you lecture me, boy.  Burning’s too good for you.  Once this is over I’ll have you flayed alive in the castle courtyard.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” snarled Arthur, finally drawing his blade, “and this is exactly why it’s time for me to take your place.”

Uther continued moving slowly round the room, his attention mainly on Merlin, like a wolf trying to separate a sheep from the flock.  Out of the corner of his eyes Merlin saw the others subtly adjusting their positions to guard him and was touched.  Uther must know that he couldn’t take on five men and win, thought Merlin, but perhaps he was banking on them holding back because he was still the King and Arthur’s father.  

“He’s using you, Arthur, you’ll thank me once he’s dead and you’re yourself again.”

“I’m my own man,” said Arthur, “and I’m doing what I think is right.”

“Then you’re no longer a son of mine,” hissed Uther venomously, “I sacrificed Ygraine for _this_?  I should have smothered you at birth.”

Merlin felt every muscle in his body go rigid with fury, and it was all he could do to use some self-restraint.  He threw his magic at Uther’s sword and watched with satisfaction as Uther’s expression became almost comically horrified when Merlin’s eyes glowed gold. 

Uther cried out in agony as the grip seared his palm and fingers, casting the sword hastily away from him. The weapon clattered to the floor and lay there with its blade and hilt turning red hot as though it lay in an invisible forge. 

Uther howled with frustration and threw himself barehanded at Merlin but before he could get close Merlin used magic to blast him backwards, throwing him heavily against the wall, hard enough to wind him, but not enough to do any permanent damage.  Gwaine was over him in a heartbeat before he could make a move to rise, his sword at Uther’s throat.

“Please resist,” smirked Gwaine, “it would make me a very happy man.”   

“You see the evil he is?”  Uther glared up at Arthur.  “Once you’re King, are you planning to let magic users like him lurk in the shadows spreading their poison through the kingdom?”

“I have no intention of that, no,” said Arthur quietly.

Merlin’s head snapped round to stare at him, feeling his stomach drop.

Arthur sheathed his sword and stepped closer, clamping one hand on Merlin’s shoulder in an almost painfully tight grip.  “As soon as I am King I intend to ensure that Merlin never lurks in the shadows again.  In fact, I intend to have him sitting by my side as my chief advisor and…more importantly…as my consort.”

Merlin’s stomach was continuing to lurch, but now for a completely different reason.  He distantly heard Uther’s horrified, “No!”   

“That is,” said Arthur looking at Merlin intensely, “If you agree of course?”

Merlin found it difficult to breathe, there suddenly wasn’t enough oxygen and the room felt very close and hot.

“Are you alright?  You’ve gone very green.”  Arthur frowned unhappily.  “If you don’t want…”

Merlin found his voice, but it was embarrassingly squeaky.  “Yes.”  He coughed, but the squeakiness was difficult to shift.  “Oh Yes!”

Arthur broke into a huge grin.  The firm grip on his shoulder disappeared and Arthur’s hands cupped either side of Merlin’s face to pull him into a deep kiss.  He heard Leon and Lancelot laughing at the sudden release of tension and Gwaine made a quite obscenely inappropriate comment that set them laughing even more.   

On one level the notion of being the royal consort scared him to death.  Being treated as royalty, or even as nobility, was never anything he’d wanted.  He had no concept what to do and Arthur must be mad. 

However the idea of being able to express his love for Arthur openly and have it openly returned more than balanced out that fear with joy.  Merlin melted into the sensation of Arthur’s lips on his.  No matter how many years they might have ahead of them, he could never imagine taking the glorious wonder of his touch for granted. 

One small part of him couldn’t help but think vindictively that Uther was really having a very bad day indeed.  


	34. Chapter 34

They left Uther securely tied to a heavy wooden chair with Lancelot to guard him.  Merlin threw a sound glamour across the doorway, so that Uther could shout as much as he liked, but no-one passing would hear a thing.

Gwaine and Leon went right once they reached the next corridor, while Merlin and Arthur went left and continued onwards, down a stone stairway, and into the Great Hall.  The hall looked beautiful; huge swags of holly and ivy hung dark and glossy green between the bright red and gold of the Pendragon wall hangings.  The long tables had been set around the sides of the room to form a large square with the centre of the Hall left free for jugglers or musicians.

Servants were busy arranging the table decorations; more dark, evergreen leaves, but interspersed with fir branches that made the air smell sweetly of the forest, and hundreds of sleek white candles that would be lit when the feast began.  Here and there as a centerpiece to the greenery stood a detailed silver statuette to suit the season: Herne the Hunter, The Oak King, the Lady of Light...  

“It’s beautiful,” breathed Merlin.

Arthur nodded, pleased.  “They’ve excelled themselves this year.”  He called across a passing servant almost hidden by the armful of winter greenery he was carrying.  “Cormac, is that you under there?”

“Yes, Sire.”

Merlin smiled slightly, able to tell by his voice that Cormac was flattered to be recognised.

“Let everyone know that the hall looks wonderful,” said Arthur, “and Ygraine’s throne from the lower council chamber, can you have it brought up and set to the left of my father’s at the high table, please.”

Merlin could just about see Cormac’s astounded expression in between the mass of ivy leaves, he looked like a startled Green Man.  “Sire?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No Sire, no, not at all.”  Cormac hurried away.

They continued on their way to Arthur’s chambers.  “Ygraine’s throne?” queried Merlin.

Arthur looked at him with raised brows.  “Well, I’m not going to announce that I’m handfasting you and then have you stand behind me with a wine jug for the rest of the evening.”

Merlin swallowed.  “You’re going to say it at the feast?”

“Where better,” said Arthur confidently, “we’ll hit them with so much to talk about they won’t know what to fix on first.”  He paused.  “But if you’re going to be my advisor, you’d better start advising.  What do you think?  Is it the right way to go, or should I break each change to them slowly over time?”

It felt odd to be asked for his opinion, he often volunteered it of course, but it felt strange for Arthur to be requesting it.  Merlin wanted to be worthy of his faith and turned over the possible outcomes carefully before replying.  “I think it’s an excellent idea.  If anyone opposes you taking over from Uther then each new change you introduce would give them fresh ammunition to draw people to their cause.  At least if you announce everything at once, you’ll soon know for sure who is for and against you.”

“My thinking exactly, I’d rather have my enemies out in the open against me on the battlefield than whispering in the corridors of my own castle.”

Merlin nodded, “I’ll go now and find the seneschal to let him know that Uther’s been taken ill and that you’ll be officiating at the feast tonight.  Then I’ll meet you back in your chambers.”

As Arthur had expected, the old seneschal wasn’t at all surprised to hear that Merlin had taken on the role of Court Physician now that Muirden was dead.  He accepted what Merlin said without question.  “I’m sorry the King’s unwell, but, to be honest, I can’t say the servants will be sorry, it’ll be a lighter atmosphere with Prince Arthur hosting.”

Merlin nodded and said nothing, wondering whether the seneschal and the servants would take the rest of the news given out at the feast with the same equanimity.

************************

He entered Arthur’s chambers a little later carrying a jug of watered wine and some goblets.  Arthur was sitting staring into the fire, chin resting on his fist, obviously deep in thought.  He looked up with a smile as Merlin entered and any heaviness in the way he held his shoulders seemed to fall from him. 

“Put those down on the table.”  Arthur went to the wardrobe and threw open the doors.  “You need to choose something for tonight.”

“You’ll need to look as regal as possible…”

“Not for me, you idiot, I’m perfectly capable of deciding what I want to wear to the feast.  And you’re right by the way; I’ll need to look every inch the King when I announce that I’m taking Uther’s place.  A good portion of being the ruler is being seen to be so.  No, I meant for you.  If you’re to be accepted as future consort, then you need to look like one.”

Merlin blanched.  “Can’t I just wear this until after we’re handfasted? …and after that no-one will really notice me anyway so it won’t matter…”

“Why of course, Merlin, there’s no problem with that at all.  And when visiting Kings ask where the Royal Consort is I’ll just suggest that they look around for the one person dressed slightly more poorly than the junior kitchen help.”

Merlin huffed.

“Over the next few days I’ll get the seamstresses to create a new wardrobe for you.  But for now you’ll have to choose something of mine.”  He reached across Merlin and slapped away the hand that was feeling a threadbare hunting shirt.  “And the finer the better.”

This time was a total reversal of his previous experience and it was Merlin pulling items from the wardrobe and Arthur vetoing them as too old or too plain.  

Arthur’s eyes lit up when Merlin pulled out a high-collared, midnight blue, velvet tunic.  “Perfect!”

He grabbed it from Merlin’s hands, and rooted through the wardrobe for a pair of black trousers to go with it. 

“Give me your boot”

“What?”

Arthur held out his hand and flexed his fingers, “Boot!  Now!”

Merlin hopped on one foot to wrench his boot off and Arthur snatched it.

Arthur went to the door, and called a passing servant, bundling the clothes and boot into his arms and giving him quiet instructions before shoving him on his way with an urgent push.

“What did you do?”

Arthur looked smug.  “Just told him to take it to a seamstress and have it taken in a little, we don’t want it to swamp you.”

“And the boot?”

“They’re brown and covered in mud.  I’ve asked him to find something in the same size but in black.  And a little bit higher, so that you can tuck the trousers inside them.  I imagine the trousers might come up a little short, since you’re lanky as a colt.”

“I’m not _lanky_ , my mother always said long legs are attractive on a man.”

“Well, I imagine that’s the sort of thing mothers say.”  Arthur began rummaging through the wardrobe to choose his own outfit.  “No,” he added decisively, “you’re lanky.  Don’t worry about it though, I like it.”

“Well, as long as _you_ like it,” scowled Merlin irritably.

Arthur threw him a grin over his shoulder, “More to grab hold of.”

 

*************************

 

Arthur chose to wear black trousers and boots beneath a red velvet tunic. Embroidered gold dragons chased each other in an intricate Celtic design at the cuffs and around the neck.  Tiny rubies set as the dragon’s eyes flashed in the light. 

It felt nice to be able to stare at him with open appreciation rather than having to sneak glances when he thought they wouldn’t be noticed.  The red of the tunic seemed to cast warmth up onto his hair, making the blond seem more rich and honey-coloured.  Merlin passed him his red gold circlet and Arthur set it on his head

“I’ll have to get a crown made I suppose.  I want a clean start so I won’t be taking Uther’s.”

They sat in front of the fire, drinking some of the watered wine and talking about the future until a knock at the door announced that Merlin’s outfit had returned from the seamstress.  Merlin peered at it with distress as he carried it in.

“This wasn’t there before.”

Arthur came over and ran a finger across the delicate embroidery of silver stars that scattered the cuffs and the high collar of the dark blue tunic.  “I thought it needed a little embellishment. No time to get it gem-set unfortunately.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies.”  Merlin reluctantly got changed.

He stood there uncomfortably once he was dressed, picking at his sleeve, staring at the flagstones, looking anywhere but Arthur. 

He wondered whether Arthur would see now what a mistake he was making, look at Merlin and realise that it wouldn’t matter how you dressed him up, he was always going to look like someone who should be serving at the high table, not eating at it.

In his heart he knew of course, that he was every bit as worthwhile as the nobility who would be sitting round the tables.  He believed that every man’s life was equally valuable, from the lowest servant to the highest King.

But knowing that wouldn’t stop them laughing at him behind their hands, at the new King and the half-trained Barbary ape he’d chosen for a consort.

He didn’t want to raise his eyes, to see the disappointment in Arthur’s face as he realised what an embarrassment Merlin would be…it would be just too painful to bear. 

“Merlin.”

“Hmmm?”  Merlin blinked rapidly, and the stones at his feet seemed to blur slightly.  Now it would come, the kind but apologetic attempt to admit to them both that perhaps this was a mistake.

“Merlin!”  Arthur’s voice was sharp, and Merlin automatically jerked his head up to look at him. 

Arthur’s expression wasn’t at all what he expected, he was smiling, warm and…there was something else in his expression…almost like wonder.  “Merlin, you look…beautiful.  I never expected quite…”  He stepped forward, reaching a hand up almost tentatively to cup his cheek.  “I swear, I’ve never seen anyone look so lovely.”

Arthur reached into the pouch at his waist and brought out a small parcel wrapped in red silk.  “When I was at the Yule market the other day, I went into the silversmith, and had you something commissioned.  I thought you could wear it tonight.”

Merlin took the parcel and unwrapped it.  A circular silver pendant on a fine chain trickled out into his hand.  On one side was embossed, with exquisite care, the dragon of the Pendragons.  He could feel that the reverse wasn’t flat against his palm, and turned it over, to see that the other side was equally beautifully crafted with a flying hawk, the square tail and broad pointed wings making it immediately identifiable as a merlin.

“Two sides of the same coin,“ breathed Arthur, “my other half.”  He took the pendant from Merlin’s fingers and gently slipped the chain over Merlin’s head, settling the pendant on his chest with the Dragon uppermost.  Arthur smiled mischievously, “just to let them know you’re mine.”

Merlin just looked at him, eyes still blurry with tears, but now for a completely different reason, and quite unable to speak.

At that moment the seneschal knocked at the door, and announced from without that the guests were assembled in the Hall and ready for the Crown Prince’s presence.

Arthur grinned, “Come on then, let’s go down and join the fray, tonight is the beginning of a new reign.”   


	35. Chapter 35

The sentries swung open the double doors to reveal the Great Hall blazing with light and colour.  Heavy shadows still hung about the roof beams, forced back by the candlelight but reminding that darkness had fallen outside.  The tall, leaded windows were now just blind eyes facing out onto the winter night.

Merlin was reminded of the poet’s song; that a man’s life was but a brief moment, like a sparrow flying in out of the winter darkness through the open doors of a feasting hall, then having a transient moment of light and colour and joy before flying out again through the opposite doorway into the unknown, tumultuous, winter night.

He supposed this was the moment of their flight really beginning.

They paused on the threshold as the guests in the hall fell silent and rose to their feet at Arthur’s arrival.  The hall was filled for a moment with the noisy rustle of fabric and the scraping of chairs.  And then there was silence.

Leon was standing relaxed but alert against the near wall, ready to command the knights and bar the doors when Arthur gave the signal.  Merlin’s gaze flicked round the room, he couldn’t see Gwaine yet, but knew he would be in the hall somewhere.

There was a gap between the tables at this end to enable the Crown Prince to walk straight through the middle of the hall and up to his seat at the raised table at the far end of the room.  Merlin looked at the huge expanse of empty space they would have to walk across with everyone’s eyes on them.  His ingrained instinct was to hang back, in preparation to walking behind, but Arthur made a tiny, sharp movement of his head telling him to step forwards beside him.

He caught Arthur’s quick glance of reassurance; it was nothing more than a small quirk of the mouth and a narrowing of the eyes, but it made Merlin stand straighter and throw his shoulders back a little, wanting to make him proud.  

The candlelight shimmered across every colour of silk and velvet as the nobility turned to watch them pass.  Merlin heard the rustle of whispers begin and follow them down the hall like dried leaves.  

He felt the warmth of a flush rising to his cheeks, knowing that the bulk of the hushed queries must be about him, nobles first wondering who he was, and then realising.  Through it all Arthur strode confidently towards his chair as though the Hall was perfectly silent.

Merlin saw Morgana now, standing to the right of Arthur’s chair.  She was resplendent in diaphanous purples and mauves, the material shot through with silver thread that glimmered in the light showing how rapidly she was breathing.  Her lips were slightly open and she was staring at Merlin as though he were a ghost.

Merlin remembered vividly the way she’d left Gwaine and himself to die of thirst in the darkness beneath the castle.  He let his lips curl up in a cold smile and was gratified to see her fingertips tense against the tabletop.

Arthur barely looked at her as he took his place standing in front of the high throne that would have been Uther’s.  Merlin stood to his left, in front of Ygraine’s throne. He heard the whispers briefly grow louder, then ebb away to silence like a wave as the guests waited for Arthur to speak.

“Honoured friends I bid you welcome to the Yule feast.  Please be seated.”

There was the deep rumble of hundreds of people dragging their chairs forward across stone flagstones and settling to listen. 

“As you have probably heard, my father is unwell and cannot attend tonight.  However he sends his greetings and hopes that you will have a fine evening.  If nothing else I can promise you a memorable one.  I have several announcements to make tonight that will change the direction of Camelot’s policies.”

The silence was so rapt that Arthur could even have whispered if he chose and everyone would still have heard him clearly.

“But, this is a feast, and I know you are all hungry so the speeches can wait until we have had a chance to start on the wonderful dishes the kitchens have worked so hard to provide for us.”

Arthur raised his goblet in a toast, “To Camelot, long may she shine, and ever brighter.”

The hall joined him enthusiastically in the toast and then Arthur took his seat, the signal for the servants to begin bringing out the food.

“When are you going to tell them?” said Merlin.

“Give them a chance to eat and drink first, allow a generous amount to wine to take the edge off their first reactions.”

“They’ll be sober tomorrow.”

“And we’ll deal with that tomorrow, tonight is about letting them know the changes as painlessly as possible.”

“Where’s Uther,” hissed Morgana, “and what’s _he_ doing here?”

“Uther’s indisposed, I’m afraid he won’t be proclaiming you an heir tonight,” said Arthur icily, “as for Merlin, do you mean here at the table, or alive in general?”

“Why is he dressed like that and why is he sitting in Ygraine’s place?”

“You’ll find out with everyone else, Morgana.”

“When Uther finds out you’ve had a servant sitting in Ygraine’s place at the High Table he’ll have you whipped till your back’s raw and even I don’t like to imagine what he’ll do to him.”

“Flaying was mentioned,” said Merlin dryly.

Morgana blanched, “Uther knows?  But he’d never countenance…”  Merlin could see the instant that a thousand fears crashed down on her.  “Arthur,” her voice was a whisper, “what are you doing?”

“All in good time, Morgana.”

The food was intricate and amazing but Merlin found it difficult to swallow anything.  He spent more time pushing it around his plate than actually eating.

He imagined Arthur must be similarly brim full of anxious anticipation, but you would never be able to tell it by looking at him.  He ate heartily and clapped enthusiastically at the entertainers.  The only giveaway was the fact that he barely touched his wine.

Now the main meat course had been finished and cleared away; the relics of the suckling pig, goose, beef, and a dozen other dishes were being spirited back to the kitchen.

Arthur rose to his feet again and the hall fell silent.  In an unprecedented move, he walked out from behind the table and made his way down into the space in centre of the hall.

“I have several things to tell you tonight, some will be welcome and some will not.  The first and most important of them is that due to his failing health it has been decided that King Uther will step down.”  He held up a hand to quieten the sudden outburst of chatter.  “There will be an official coronation in due course, but from tonight, I, Arthur Pendragon, proclaim myself King of Camelot and all its lands.  I promise to do everything in my power to serve you well, and to bring peace and prosperity to the land.”

Morgana had leapt to her feet with an anguished cry of denial, but she was immediately drowned out by Gwaine’s voice from the back of the hall, rapidly joined by the knights’, starting the cry of “God save the King!”

To Merlin’s relief the shout was taken up enthusiastically around the hall.  As eagerly by the servants as by the nobility. 

“God save the King!  God save King Arthur!”

Arthur was popular in a way that Uther had never been, and Uther’s style of leadership had only gotten harsher as he aged.  Merlin guessed that while they might not believe the story of Uther’s infirmity, they were willing to swallow it unchallenged if it meant a change of leadership.

Arthur let the cheering die away naturally, and left a pause for the room to settle before speaking again. 

“One of my first acts as King is to declare all people equal in the sight of tradition and the law.”  His gaze moved over nobles, ladies, knights, guards and servants alike.  “Henceforth, anyone who wishes to may join the knights, own land, or anything previously prohibited on grounds of birth or rank…or gender.”

He beckoned Merlin to join him.  Merlin rose and walked down, feeling all eyes upon him.

“You all know my manservant, Merlin.  It took me a while to realise his worth, because I was blinded by the way I had been raised and saw him as beneath my notice. For a long while I was too scared of tradition to even call him friend.”

The hall seemed to hold its collective breath.  Merlin wondered which way the next announcement would take them.  He held his spine rigid, prepared for angry shouting.  He wondered whether the servants might be the worst, resenting one of their own being raised up above them.

“Merlin has proved himself the best and wisest of companions,” Arthur seemed to forget the crowd for a moment and looked across at him fondly, taking his hand, and speaking as sincerely as though they were alone, “and I have come to realise that he is everything I could wish for in a consort.  I have therefore asked whether he would agree to be handfasted and he has done me the honour of consenting.”

The cheering for this wasn’t quite as universal, but Merlin had never imagined that it would be.  He could see several lords who frowned at the idea of having to treat their servants or their wives as people from now on.  To his surprise though, the servants were the loudest in their approval, he could detect no resentment, only joy that one of their own had been chosen to sit beside the King.

A voice rang out across the hall as the cheering died down. 

Morgana was on her feet, her whole body was vibrating with fury and one shaking hand pointed at Merlin with hatred in her eyes.  “The servant’s a sorcerer, a magic user who has enchanted Prince Arthur and wants to take over the kingdom by stealth.” 


	36. Chapter 36

Merlin waited for Arthur to speak, but Arthur merely inclined his head and made a small gesture of his hand giving Merlin the floor.

Merlin’s mouth went dry, surely he didn’t expect him to speak to a whole hall of people. 

Arthur’s raised eyebrows and tight nod indicated that, yes, he certainly did.

Merlin looked around, taking in the fact that he was the sole centre of attention in the hall.  The faces seemed to blur into each other, like pale candle flames above the rich colours of the garments.  He felt slightly sick.

He swallowed.

“As King Arthur is aware I am a magic user.”  The collective intake of breath hit him almost like a physical blow and he had to steel himself against recoiling.  “But as the King also knows, I have never used it for anything except his own welfare and the good of Camelot.  We hope, with our union, to bring…”

“Lies!”  howled Morgana, she sounded more than half insane.

But perhaps, thought Merlin, she always had been.

He struggled to continue his train of thought.  “…to bring…harmony to the land, peace between the druids and the other magic users and Camelot, so that we can all live together in mutual assistance as we did in the days before the purge.  Peace so that the village shaman or wise woman can use their wisdom to assist the harvest and help in childbirth…”

Morgana was circling around the table now, and coming down to join them.  Mad as she was, he couldn’t deny she was impressive.  “Under Uther’s law he must burn!”

Merlin drew himself up to his full height, aware that he was a couple of inches taller and at this moment grateful for every bit of it.  “And under Uther’s Law you would too!” 

He reached inside himself, trying something he’d never done before, drawing up his magic and then pushing it outside himself to seek its like and drag it to the surface.  He hoped to force Morgana to display her own magic, even if only with a flash of her eyes.  Like a tug, deep within his stomach, he felt the moment his magic found someone else’s and began to pull it to the surface. 

Morgana let out a choked sound of frustration as, despite herself, her eyes blazed unmistakably gold in full view of their audience.

What he didn’t expect was for a dozen other pairs of eyes within the hall to suddenly glow golden as well:  Kieran, the short, red-haired deputy-seneschal suddenly had eyes that gleamed like a pair of gold coins…so did the grey-haired Lady Iseult, and he saw her kind husband put a protective hand across hers as she winced backwards; he had known about his wife’s abilities…and over there, pressed against the back wall as though he wished he could flee through the solid stone, was the young squire of Sir Bors with eyes like twin flames…and there were more…

Not many amongst a hall of hundreds, but still a dozen or so magic users living and hiding within Camelot’s boundaries.

And all of these were people with loved ones and friends who would not fear them, and who would not want them to die.  Perhaps the introduction of magic back to Camelot would not be as totally against the tide as he had expected.

Beside him Arthur wore an echoing expression of surprise and dawning understanding.

“Tricks,” shouted Morgana, “magician’s tricks!  Don’t believe these lies.”  She spun aside to face her audience, pointing the full length of her arm at Arthur.  “That isn’t even the true Arthur, the real Arthur is dead.”

A small movement of Arthur’s hand was the signal for Leon and the guards to bar the doors, Merlin heard the heavy wooden bars quietly settling home.

Arthur’s voice was crisp in the sudden silence.  “And how do you know that?”

Morgana wheeled around, suddenly seeing the trap and catching herself.  Her mouth snapped shut.

“Why would you think I was dead?” asked Arthur coldly.  “Was it because you thought you’d murdered me yourself?”

The eyes of the crowd were all on her now, and she backed up a few steps.  Merlin saw her gaze flick nervously to the doors to see them barred. 

A low hissing of disapproval began somewhere in the guests, Merlin thought it might even have started with Iseult, Iseult and her husband had loved Arthur since he was a young boy. The hissing spread through the people in the hall like a fine rain beginning to fall harder.

Morgana’s green eyes were wide, she scanned the crowd as though searching for a saviour.

Arthur voice was quiet but carried effortlessly.  “I have proof that the King’s ward, Morgana, attempted to kill me, and was preparing to kill my father.  For these crimes of treason, as well as numerous other crimes against the crown, I sentence her to death.”

Merlin was ready for her whatever magic she decided to try.  When she flung her hand out to blast Arthur backwards Merlin was ready to block it and was surprised to find that he could do it effortlessly.  Whatever magic Muirden had coached her in, she had not had time to master it, and Muirden had nowhere near the capability of Morgause.   

Merlin felt himself relax slightly and threw a smile at Arthur.  This would be easier than they anticipated.  He didn’t look forward to Morgana’s execution, but at least…

“To me!”  Morgana’s cry took them both completely by surprise. 

Merlin whirled to see several men flinging off the robes of guests to reveal chainmail and swords beneath, then leaping across the tables towards Arthur.

Merlin’s gaze flew to Leon and the other knights around the hall who seemed to be similarly stunned.  Morgana had obviously peppered the hall with a few of her followers, ready for them to kill Arthur as soon as she had managed to blame Uther’s poisoning on him.

Arthur was unarmed.

Merlin felt frozen.  The sheer horror of the moment caught him off guard.  It was only a matter of seconds, but he seemed to watch the scene in slow motion as his brain struggled to keep up…

Arthur caught the wrist of his first assailant, turning aside the sword’s killing blow and flipping the man across his knee in a smooth move that sent him crashing onto his back.

By the time the second man reached Arthur, Merlin’s mind had kicked back into action.  As Arthur let himself fall back to the floor in order to kick the legs out from the second attacker, Merlin was now ready to send a fire blast at the third man.

Out of his peripheral vision he could see the knights racing forward to protect Arthur, but they would have to burst through the stunned throng around the tables to reach them.

Merlin caught the fourth man with a blast of power that sent him backwards with a spine-breaking crunch against the nearest oak table leg. 

Momentarily distracted from Morgana, Merlin suddenly felt a surge of her energy blast him off his feet to send him landing heavily on his shoulder blades on the floor and skidding a few feet across the flagstones on his back.

He quickly rolled onto his side, ignoring the pain that shot through his ribs, to make sure that Arthur was still uninjured.

Arthur was on the floor, in the process of pushing himself to his feet when Merlin saw the fifth man catch him from behind.  Before Merlin even had a chance to think the man’s hand was slicing down and in his hand was a sharp steel blur that caught the candlelight and seemed barely to brush Arthur’s throat as it descended and rushed past.

Merlin gasped with relief, and blasted the man backwards and away in that instant. 

But then, time seemed to freeze, and Merlin saw the path of the blade erupt as Arthur’s throat opened in its wake and a waterfall of blood surged out.

Merlin heard himself screaming.

He saw Arthur’s lips open, saying something to him, but soundless.  Arthur’s hands were fumbling at his own neck, trying to hold the gash closed as blood surged out over and between his fingers.

Bloody bubbles rose and burst as he tried to breathe through a windpipe that had been cut apart.

Merlin was on his knees and slithering across a floor now slippery with gore.  He reached Arthur and grabbed him to his chest.  Arthur’s blue eyes were wide and fixed on Merlin’s.  

Merlin added his own desperate grip to Arthur’s throat, trying somehow to hold it closed.

Arthur was staring at his face with a fierce intensity, as though trying to memorise him, he didn’t even look afraid, just vaguely surprised.  He hadn’t expected to die now, like this.  Not when they had their whole lives in front of them.

Beneath Merlin’s clutching fingers he could already feel Arthur’s hands starting to loosen and slip away.   

Arthur’s eyes were starting to lose focus.

Merlin looked down at himself to see the blue velvet of his tunic was now drenched scarlet and the silver of the pendant Arthur had given him just a few short hours ago was now dripping lifeblood.

Somewhere dimly, he was aware that Leon had reached them, his trembling hand was on Merlin’s shoulder.  Gwaine was a few paces in front of him, he looked distraught, but Merlin barely even noticed him, he was looking beyond him at where Morgana stood…

Merlin felt an anger roll over him that he had never felt before.  Balinor and Freya’s deaths had been like mere cold breezes across his soul compared to the blizzard-like intensity that enveloped him now.

Somewhere inside he knew that he was tapping into something dark, a magic that was deeply alien to him, a magic that Morgana and Morgause would reach for, and that Gaius would warn him never to touch.

He laughed recklessly and plunged into it, calling it up to him, aware of the room filming over in a ruby mist.  A couple of the men who had attacked Arthur were in view and he saw their breathing chests make a muffled cracking noise, before their blood erupted in a fountain that was almost pretty as their hearts sprang out of their chests and landed thudding on the floor. 

He knew that the assailants behind him were suffering the same fate.

He felt Leon’s hand withdraw from his shoulder, and saw Gwaine recoil, but didn’t care.

He focused on Morgana.

He let the dark magic slither up his spine. Allowed his head to tilt back, and smiled at her...almost laughed…as she hesitantly took a few paces backwards…

Then he let the magic have its way, rejoiced as it slithered like black oil across Arthur’s throat, and took the memory of it, then sprang across the gap between them to Morgana.  It leaped around her neck like a warm embrace and coiled around it like an invisible snake, a mere vibration in the air.

Morgana raised an uncertain hand to her throat…caught the tiny drop of blood on her fingertips, and raised it frowning to look at it.

He saw her eyes widen, and her lips open in an “Oh” as she felt the smart of the cut beginning.

The cut widened, and she rubbed at it with her fingers as the blood started to dribble, trying to press it shut.

He looked down to see the gaping wound in Arthur’s neck begin to seamlessly close.  Arthur’s eyelashes fluttered.

Morgana was stumbling backwards now and turning around her for help.  But anyone she moved towards backed hastily away, staring in horror at the widening gash in her throat.

Blood was streaming down onto her gown now, turning the purple into a deep maroon.

She opened her mouth to call for help, but by now her windpipe was gaping open and no sound came out. 

She whirled around, blood spraying around her like a net of bubbling red lace.

She sank slowly to the floor.  She looked at Merlin at the last.

He returned her gaze impassively, watching as she closed her eyes and keeled over onto her side.

Merlin looked down at Arthur, still sprawled across his lap.  The wound across his throat had closed, leaving a long, fine silvery scar just beneath his Adam’s apple. 

Arthur’s eyes flickered fully open.  He seemed to flinch at what he saw in Merlin’s face, then his whole expression softened and his eyes misted over.  Merlin felt Arthur’s hand reach up and rub roughly through his hair

His voice was a balm that Merlin had never thought to hear again.  “Oh, my dear one.”

Merlin fainted.


	37. Chapter 37

Merlin blinked slowly, he was staring at a shadowy stone ceiling.  Even though it was far above him and obviously the roof of a great hall, still for a moment he panicked and thought he had dreamed his escape and was back in the tomb again.  He struggled to sit up, only to find a gentle hand pushing him down again.

“Easy.”  It was Arthur’s voice.

Merlin felt the tension drain from his body and relaxed back.  He turned his head to realise that he was still at the site of the Yule feast.  He was lying on one of the long wooden benches with cloth padded soft beneath his head.

Arthur was standing over him and smiled, “No, it’s quite alright, you just lie there and let everyone else do the work.”

Merlin grinned.  It faded as he turned his head to see several servants cleaning the floor, every time they raised a mop to rinse it in the bucket, its head was wet and scarlet. 

Apart from them, and a scattering of knights, the hall was empty.

“You’ve been out for a bit,” supplied Arthur. 

Merlin felt a shiver run convulsively through his entire body as he remembered what had happened to Arthur, recalled almost losing him.

Arthur’s fingers ran through his hair, and he felt their gentle touch against his scalp.  “Don’t feel guilty, she was trying to kill me, almost did, you had to do it.”

Merlin looked away, throwing one hand up to cover his mouth.  Arthur had misinterpreted him completely; he didn’t feel even a tiny bit guilty.  When he thought of Morgana’s death it was just with a sense of freedom and release.  The only thing that made him cringe was how close he had come to letting Arthur down.

He wondered what that made him.  Whether using the dark magic had changed him somehow. Perhaps before this evening he would have felt guilt, for moving Arthur’s wound onto Morgana.  He turned the idea over in his mind and couldn’t see how he could ever feel remorse for that.  She had brought it on herself, and Arthur was worth a hundred of her.

He lowered his hand and turned his face to meet Arthur’s concerned gaze with a shaky smile.  “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” said Arthur.  he moved to sit and Merlin shuffled his hips over to one side so that he could settle on the bench beside him. 

Arthur seemed to be looking rather intently at his eyes and Merlin frowned.  “What?”

“When I came round in your lap, after you attacked Morgana, your eyes weren’t golden, they were glowing red.”

Merlin looked at his hands, he’d unconsciously reached up for the pendant on his chest and was twisting it restlessly between his fingers.  The blood, Arthur’s blood, had dried now to a dull brown.  It was flaking away under his fingertips, gradually revealing the gleaming silver underneath.

“It was dark magic, that’s why my eyes were a different colour, it’s magic no-one is ever meant to tap into.”

“Well, I’m very glad you did,” said Arthur cheerily. 

He didn’t understand the implications, thought Merlin, and how could he be expected to.  He’d only recently come to accept magic at all.  Merlin didn’t want to say anything more, Arthur was so elated.  And perhaps just using it once, and for a good cause, would mean nothing…

“Where…?”

“They’ve moved the bodies down into the physician’s chambers, we’ll have a pyre tomorrow.” 

Leon and Gwaine must have realised he’d awoken as they appeared at Arthur’s shoulder. 

“Impressive moves,” said Gwaine, with a brittle grin, “the jumping hearts and all that.”

Arthur threw him a scowl that quelled even Gwaine into silence.

“Lean on me,” said Arthur, bending down, “it’s well into the early hours, let’s get you into a bath and into bed.”

Merlin still felt fragile enough to welcome being able to put his arm around Arthur’s neck, and to be helped to his feet.  It was ridiculous to be this weak when he remembered that a very short time ago it was Arthur’s neck that had been gaping open…

“Easy…”  Arthur pulled him closer.

Merlin realised that he must have drifted away for a moment and was sagging in Arthur’s arms.  He locked his knees and stood up straighter. 

“I’m fine, sorry, just a bit tired.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.  “The fact that you used to deceive me on a regular basis is just plain embarrassing.”

Despite all that had happened Merlin found himself smiling.

 

*********************************

 

So this was what boneless felt like.  Merlin stretched across the crisp white sheet and every single joint felt loose and easy. 

Across the room, the bath they’d just used was cooling.  Arthur finished toweling his hair and climbed into bed next to him.  The mattress dipped and settled around him.  His skin smelled of lavender bath oil.

Merlin turned on one side and huddled into the warmth of his muscular, naked body.  It felt like home.

Arthur curved one arm around him and rested his chin on Merlin’s hair.  “We’ve come a long way.”

Merlin hummed.

“You’re out of it, aren’t you?”

Merlin shook his head slightly, “Nhhhn…”

“We’ve a lot ahead of us.  The coronation, dealing with my father…and I don’t think your display tonight went entirely in our favour.”  He added hastily, “although I’m incredibly glad you did it.”

Merlin couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, but at least he formed a coherent sentence.  “We’ve all the time in the world now.”

“Indeed we have.  Together we will bring magic back to the land, and create a band of knights that will be everything that anyone could aspire to, and they will carry that example across Albion.  You can organize the magic users to heal and bring good harvests.  In time we will bring the whole land together under one banner and everyone who sees the Pendragon banner will know…”

Merlin felt his mouth go slack and a tiny bit of drool slip out over Arthur’s chest.

Arthur’s laugh was a deep comforting rumble beneath his cheek.  The last thing he heard before falling into dreams was Arthur whispering, “sleep tight, my love.”

 

 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, MANY, thanks to the very kind people who have commented on this. I've really been so grateful for every comment.
> 
> Thanks too, to all the people who've left kudos or bookmarked it. All encouragement like that has helped to keep me writing it.
> 
> I've enjoyed writing this so much, that I may go on to write more stories in this universe, but hopefully this one will stand alone, so no-one who's had enough has to keep on reading. :-)


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